I’m not sure of the last time I free-blogged. I know I have my boom posts and my music posts. I’ve gushed about yoga and work and the writing process. But I think the last time I wrote anything personal, and freely, must have been in the Myspace age.
I couldn’t quite commit to using my own voice; I suppose I let the fear of that set in and I ended up writing this:
She stepped lightly out of bed and slipped through the door, in to the hall; tip-toed up the steps to the kitchen and unlocked the front door, cracking it just enough to wiggle out: secret cigarettes that weren’t a secret anymore. Not only thankful for the curbed appetite, but an activity for her idle hands.
She sat on the steps and wished for hot coffee and company; anyone to talk to about the upcoming day or just take in the crisp morning with. Those days of bliss were long gone…a road that seems miles away from where she was sitting now.
She dressed alone for work again, an activity that had become comforting in her quiet life. Coffee first, then the radio, which was probably too loud for her neighbors, but they were nice folks and never mentioned it at the mailbox. Some days were full-fledged doll up days and others she felt lucky to smear on cover up and smile.
On this particular day, she stared at her reflection and sighed loudly, so much so that she felt it’s release from the crown of her head and the tips of her toes. Dark circles under her eyes were now more noticeable than her once rose-colored cheeks; color positively drained from her face. “Nothing a little makeup won’t fix,” she thought, ever the eternal optimist. After an hour of primping, she still wasn’t satisfied. “You’re just a reflection of a reflection I don’t even recognize.”
It was in that moment, in her own recognition of how little she remembered of her former self that she knew what had to be done.
I think I may use this voice frequently, I hope you like it. I don’t really care if you don’t though.
and as usual….