Inside

My world has taken on a different shape.

The number 18 was seared onto both my hands like a stigmata. I don't inhabit the same space that I used to. When I try to go back into it, it doesn't fit me anymore. Have I grown that much?

People look at me now with eyes I don't recognize. I'm something different to them now, even when I feel the same as I do and did always. I'm not protected from that anymore, I don't need to be. I'm allowed to be looked at. Soon enough I'll even welcome it.

Who are you to lie with if the minds of women and the bodies of children disgust you? A creature who is neither, and whose inhabitance of a mature body feels like a charming performance. Half woman, half child. Only the beautiful parts.


what goes here?