Confessions
When I look in the mirror I don’t see a beauty Queen or the next best thing, I see little Miss Chelsea Suzi Savage. I have scares on my hands and dirt under my nails. My hair’s kinda messy and I never do my make up quite the way I’d like. I let my legs get hairy and I need to pluck my eyebrows. I could lose a few pounds and my socks never match. I am quick to judge and slow to apologize. Someday I will stand up for someone else when they have been wronged. Someday I won’t yell when I am frustrated. Someday I might even give up smoking, but not today. It bothers me when parents yell at their kids in public, when lovers part ways angry, when dogs get tied up outside in the rain. I cry when I am tiered, when I am frustrated, and when I can’t find my notebook. I write to avoid eye contact, to hide, and because I sound smarter on paper then I do face to face. I act like a badass, smart ass, tuff ass because deep down I still wish girls wore dresses and had sewing time. I crochet, scrap book, and yes, I do needle work. Some times I like to walk alone just to let my thoughts have time to bounce around uninterrupted. Once I sat out in the rain for hours just because it was better then watching more television. I don’t like fast food. I like sitting in front of my computer for hours and I think it is nice to hang out with your mom. I have written more good fuck you letters then I have good love letters and that makes me think that I must not be a very good writer. It bothers me how much I cuss. When I am alone I let my imagination run away with me. I live in the past because it seems more real to me then dinner at six. I might go out of the way to make a stranger smile but I haven’t thought about saving the world since I was fifteen. You loved me for my silly things but can’t remember what they where. I am imposable to forget and hard to recognize.
CKS
CKS