Sometimes, I wonder what people might wonder when they see me. Dyed blond hair; grey muddled eyes behind spectacles; little round nose that doesn’t betray my Italian heritage; pouty lips from some mysterious genetic line. These are the features I hide myself behind, lined with makeup and wrapped in the clothing of normal day-to-day life. Yet what if I didn’t? How would I look if I didn’t drape myself in a soft well-rehearsed smile and polite demeanor?
I would be a scribble; a mess of lines that would wind together to shape my form. The threads of me would be black and twisted; my grin crooked and sinister; the glint in my eyes the colour of blood. I would be cracked and broken, and the seething pulsating insides of me would be bare for everyone to see.
It’s only in my writing that I show who I am and how I think.
Hello, world.
No comments:
Post a Comment