She is twenty years today and feeling undefinable.
Too old to still be considered a child but still too young to have any real understanding.
She can't decide on how to dress anymore.
When she was younger it was ripped up jeans and baggy t-shirts.
Being on the cusp of adulthood, she's unsure of how to express her identity through clothes.
She's unsure of her identity and standing at a fork in the road.
Her hands, cracked and torn, are shoved deep in the pockets of her thin red duster.
She worries her lip into chapped shreds as she examines each path.
Both roads look almost identical with the exception of coloring.
She's always been a fan of bright.
The vivid greens, reds, and blues of the left path entice her; tousling her hair with whispers of passion.
But she is trying to be a good girl and the right path tugs at her conscience; pushing her fathers voice to the forefront until she can feel the prick of his words in her tear ducts.
"You'll never be worth anything if you follow your heart over your head," and the child inside screams back that the world is at her fingertips if she would only grasp it.
Murmurs of her past echo on the wind and with a choked cry, she closes her eyes to shut them out.
She takes a breath, then another and slowly begins to spin.
Faster and faster she twirls until the churning in her stomach becomes too much.
Eyes still closed, she takes a step.
She opens her eyes to find a world of color and shape she never could have dreamed.
Self confidence and relief rush into her and she breathes in the freedom, exhaling it in laughter.
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izzy806
blakekathryn
vaporwave
origamiaround
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