"a copy of a copy of a copy"

I lay on my stomach, cool sheets against my face. Gray light makes its way through curtains. I stare blankly at my right hand, limply resting inches away. I consider its lines and shadows, etch-a-sketch it out in my mind. I think it's trying to tell me something.

You want to believe in destiny. In that feeling that you know something about yourself nobody else does.* And I think half of me believes it.  Half of the time.  That sneaking suspicion of what I was made to do and to be.

I'd love to believe that someday I'll know. But it seems more and more to me that you either have it or you don't. You have it or you don't.

The greatest block of all is fear of being blind to my own ineptitude. The inability to smell my own stench. Mutterings behind my back, Just give it up, Meg. But - I - can't. Even if the worst my mind could possibly conceive of myself is all completely true. It can't matter whether or not it's any good, accepted, approved of. It can only matter that it's mine. To abandon it would be to abandon my own breed, and here I'd walk around as a shell.

She'd be a popular shell, probably. A trending shell. The kind of shell that people would look at and say, Goals. Because somewhere over the last three years, the world forgot how to give compliments consisting of more than one word or tiny digital images of heart eyes bulging from cat heads. But, regardless, she would not be me. And, for better or worse, those are the only cards I've been dealt, crooked features, acne and all. Anything less or more is trickery.

*Bob Dylan


  1. There's something really amazing in the way you write, how you see the world, it gives me hope that there are people out there who value honesty and sincerity as much as I do. I feel I've given up on blogger, and really am now disconnected from everything that is online, but your blog is in my favorites and I read it in excitement every time I see a new post from you. I like the way your words make me think.

    1. This comment makes me feel so good. It's really hard to put your thoughts out there, because the majority of the time, people seem to misunderstand or don't care to take the time to understand. And it's discouraging and frustrating. So, comments like these, that seem to get it, I appreciate a lot. It makes me sad that so many have abandoned the art of blogging, and most of them that remain are just another form of advertising. If you have a blog, I'd love to read it. I can't seem to find any in your profile. Thank you for reading, it really does mean a lot!

    2. Your writing makes me want to share again, but for now I am in hiding.

  2. ps: and you are beautiful just the way you are, imperfections and all, in the end we are perfectly imperfect.

  3. Ugh, it's frustrating how fake people are, isn't it? And why is it that those people are the ones that get all the attention? Not that I think you or I or anyone else more genuine are attention-starved, but it's an interesting reflection of where the values of our society lay. I like real people, and I like you!


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