A grown woman, today I carry the sadness of a little girl.
Why did they leave me out, as if I were a modern-day Cinderella?
I think I’m actually in shock. I watch, confused, yet perform as expected.
“I” tries to give answers to “Me”, yet no grown-up logic or explanation to “Myself” can help shake off such profound sadness. Once again a child, “Me” understands neither logic nor grown-up talk.
On the outside, once again with nose pressed against a window, “I” watches searching anew for answers.
Back at home, I roam from sofa to bed to kitchen to comfy sitting chair in search of more warmth than the momentary kind that radiates from a cup of tea. I need something stronger.
Alone, in my child’s skin, in my adult home I wander searching for the comfort of my grand mom’s arms.