Kimberly loves to keep a journal. Her preferred journaling tools are -- moleskine diary, astronaut pen (for writing upside down), sunlight, and a restless mind.
Her colors are; white, gray, black and orange. She’s basically always wearing a preppy combo of those colors. Girl could use more variety.
[Unedited Writing: Read at your own risk!]
"Who are you?" She scribbled. Handwriting not much better than chicken-scratch. The laundry machine rumbled uncomfortably, making a poor writing seat. People like Kimberly didn't let the little inconveniences of life stall her immediate demands -- immediately, Kimberly demanded, she needed to write an entry in her journal. Something profound, and meaningful, like a sudden epiphany. The moleskine notebook sat in her lap, pen at the ready in her left palm, clutching like a crab. Any moment now, a flood of genius would pour from her pen like... a waterfall of brain synapses and big words and all that other cool stuff, Kim thought, eyeballs floating toward the ceiling as she lost herself in thought.
Students buzzed about the cafe. Kim needed a laundry cycle stat -- parent's house? That's a no-go. Not after that fight with her brothers and sisters. Family squabbling cut deep in the Williams' household ever since dad's passing. Well, even before his passing. The ranch don't feel so invitin' right now. No, the company of strangers was better. The types with Hemingway coffee mugs and Shakespeare charms on the cashier. Basic literary decoration that spoke to the college freshmen in the process of re-evaluating their boring Middle School assignments. Kimberly fell into one of those categories, and browsed through a Penguin Collection of Oscar Wilde. She browsed the short stories and poetry, and read lines of Ave Imperatrix! until she skipped to the end. What really caught Kimberly's wandering attentions was a quote, attributed naturally to Wilde.
"Be yourself; everyone else is already taken."
And so she chewed her pen, unfolded her journal, and set her mind to the real question of the evening -- perhaps the real question of her life thus far. "Who are you, Kimberly Williams." She asked herself and struggled for an answer. Introspection and Kim did not mix well.
Simply being did not sit well with Kimberly. What about all the what-ifs, and what-thens, and how-abouts and how-tos and... The concept, frankly, sounded impossible. Sitting well in your shoes. Living your life without constant questions and confusions. No, that was a load. An impossible task. And yet, her sisters figured it all out. Her brothers figured it out. The aunt chose a veterinarian smock. Big brother got his engineering degree, the second-oldest won her prosecutor's badge. Kid sis on her way to college, too. Felt like the whole Williams clan knew exactly what to do with themselves, so what made life such a challenge for Kimberly?
As if by providence, the laundry machine alerted its completion with the strike of a bell. She jolted in her makeshift chair, her pile of "borrowed" books flopping onto the checkerboard floor thanks in part to her shocked gesticulations. No closer to an answer. Klutz is all I'll ever be. She groused, stepping down, returning her journal to its special compartment in her leather messenger bag.
