written works

I would like to say something

8th March 2024

I would like to say something:

I wonder what I missed after I turned 13. Grass? Sky? Running? I can’t remember.

I only have guilt from being foul to my family. I do feel a sadness when I think back, as she isn’t smiling. I should be smiling. I have breasts and eggs, and razors to clean myself up, and I’m very good at practicing looking perfect. Something faded while I was practicing, but no time for that. Weird things are starting to happen; I look into my mirror, and I look and look and things start to change. My eyes swell and my nose shrinks, I touch my face, and my fingers sink deep into my skin, then I’m gone.

I smell it at first. Its rich and fresh, and all over me. The mud doesn’t look bad, but I think about that after, right now I’m thinking about nothing. Its just grass, everywhere. Its cold but I’m warm. The sky is a little pink, its either dawn or dusk. I can now see trees, a great pine tree, its trunk contorting the way nature wills it. A child is sat amongst the branches, she can’t climb any higher as she isn’t tall enough. I see her and cry for what she will go through, what life has planned for her. She could stay this way forever. Knowing what happens I’d like to go back please, please.

All of human history has built this world for you! It has been this way so long it’s unbreakable, like petrified wood. You’ll think you fit in this petrified wood, but really, you’re barking up the wrong tree. This world isn’t built for teenage girls. And when you finally learn that you aren’t the problem, it’ll be too late. The world you had when you were a child, well, we destroyed that. All you’re left with is a memory of a girl in a tree, a fraction before we rupture her soul and you end up desperately grasping onto what remains. You can’t quite put into words what happened, it would take too long and the sadness would get in the way, so no one ever knows. You’re all just little girls in trees, unable to branch out.

It is hard to work through guilt, if the years feel wasted. It isn’t your fault, and you were vulnerable and alone. But don’t feel bitter. Look back and feel sad when you see her, but know she is so happy when she sees you. Radiant, iridescent. You almost resemble the feeling that tree gave you when you stood at its roots, a feeling words aren’t ready for. You are creating a world that could be a dream. It is for her, as she is you. Look in the mirror and see her eyes.

Have you ever seen the trees, grass, sky at 6am? Everything is yours, the birds tell you their names, their entire family tree in fact. I’ve made it to the beach and I can see the sunlight on the waves, like starlight performing a ritual dance.

I think, whatever sunlight on the waves is made from, I am made of the same stuff.