Young

A Story by scarlynn

Something thirteen in me refuses to ever write it out completely, but I find it in my dreams and in text messages I never respond to, birthdays I convince myself don't matter. I walk around with something crawling out my chest, large, screeching, panicked, needing attention - that I hardly ever notice. Names pass through one ear and out the other, but sometimes I think of all the "him"'s I grew up with and need to cry so immediately I think I must be living two lives all in the same second. Another sudden hurtle to the floor of the last stall. Bartenders across the world will know my name soon enough.

A reason I cant get married, a reason I can't have children, a reason for everything even though it's no reason to me. He wanted perfection and I gave him the worst I could imagine. Already I find my chest tightening and I cannot continue this bluntly about everything. Perhaps it will be my only true life work. I bite my lip as I write this.