Freak Show
Being the new girl is a common practice of mine. Being the gypsy child, this is my 16th place of residence in 19 years. Never before though has it made me interesting to others. In this strange world of student housing I am a commodity. I am the tall tiger girl, to be watched unashamedly, but approached with extreme caution. It's as though they view yesterday's bohemian skirt and ankle bangles as the leotard of some strange contortionist. Today's heels and dominatrix red lipstick (something worn only in winter) are the tattoos of the snake man. Apparently though, my freak show status does not mark me as something volatile, but rather something to be possessed.
Today, in the span of two hours, I was asked out five times. The look in their eyes was not that of someone hoping to find a lover, but rather the look of someone desperate for a new pet in the menagerie. Three men and two women; all hungry.
I politely turned them all down.
The world has lost its mind; perhaps we should help them find it.
Today, in the span of two hours, I was asked out five times. The look in their eyes was not that of someone hoping to find a lover, but rather the look of someone desperate for a new pet in the menagerie. Three men and two women; all hungry.
I politely turned them all down.
The world has lost its mind; perhaps we should help them find it.