I’m not sure who I am today.

I look in the mirror, and I don’t look like my usual self.  My hair doesn’t lay right.  I move it around, and it just looks weirder still.  My face looks … not me, so I add some makeup.  And then different makeup.  And I still don’t really look familiar.

This me is sort of empty;  a husk of the formerly bold me, maybe, that has now outgrown its previous self, and flown off to live in a better, more exciting place.  Leaving behind the shell, that seems to wander around blank faced and thoughtless.  Dropping things.  Forgetting what she is doing.  Milling about looking for something to jump out at her and tell her what she should be doing.

This might be a dangerous me to be; because she seems so unaware, she might easily follow the Pied Piper into the depths of darkness, or disappear into the fog of the night.

About denelle

writer. artist. ponderer.

Posted on September 12, 2016, in random. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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