submitted by Stacy Sorrells
Oh hello, you, I mean me. Yup still me. Let’s see eighteen today. I honestly thought I’d burst into flames by now, but here I stand. Should I have gotten a manicure or something? No. that would have been a total waste of money. Look at these fingernails so short and ragged. I have such man hand’s; rough boney man hands. That’s what I get for working as hard as a man.
Oh wow, the dark circles under my eyes are back again. Maybe I should start using old lady cream now that I am an adult.
What I really need more sleep; better sleep and a better diet. My lips are still the best though and thank God that hasn’t changed, naturally full and garnet red. I’ll never need to buy lipstick. But I’ll also never have a female friend. My pore less porcelain skin is no help either. Girls do everything under the sun to avoid pimples while I’ve prayed for just one, just to fit in and feel normal. My vending machine diet is proof I’ve made a solid effort. At this point, I’ll take anything a beauty mark, a mole, a freckle, even a tan. But there is just this white, this soft glowy white skin. Oh, thank goodness for you nose. Still here in the center of my face and average as ever. Jealousy among us females ridiculous. So glad school is finally over.
Oh, my hair, my poor poor hair you are just like me; a hot mess. I was hoping you’d pull a Benjamin Button, and the silver streaks would turn brown. Guess I’m to continue looking like an old hag from behind. And let me see…yup, those silver crescent shapes are still in my eyes. Why not gold or green?; Had to be effing silver. I’m so freaking weird.
I guess I was hoping for something magical to happen, something radical. But there is nothing new to report. Still strange, still hiding my diagnosis from the world; still seeing eyes; still feeling watched; still dreaming of that man who won’t turn and face me. The only thing changing today is my age and this home; no more foster families to navigate. Well, time to pack and get out of here.
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