Work In Progress (Snippet)

She always found her way to the fringe, hoping and dreading someone would notice her. In school it had been the back row in class, where she would slouch in the desk, feet almost touching the one in front of her, only participating enough so the teacher wouldn’t single her out. Walking the halls close to the walls to avoid touching or being touched, the sounds, scents, and motion swirling around her like a dark presence.

A Girl In Boys Clothes (Update)

I was thinking of the next step in my current story line: A Girl In Boys Clothes. I needed to remember my room from those days, (aged 10 to 13), when I realized how spartan it was. Just white painted walls, a single window and a calendar on the wall. It was small, my single bed taking almost half of the space. Closing my eyes I can still see it, feel the Summer stuffiness of stagnate, still air, smell the emptiness of my presence there.

There was nothing there of me and not much of “him” either, as if we were just guests passing through.

It’s sad in a way, taking the time to try and sort through your memories and realizing one day you have had almost no impact on the world at all, as if you were nothing but a spirit, a ghost… maybe not even as much as they…