Monday, August 9, 2010

Instant Karma

Every Monday she looks at me like a destination on a map.

I see her.  The tangled mess of hair whispers a warning.  Eyes, equally manic and kind, thinly veil the terror.  Combined with a cautious smile I know the one question I could ask that would open a floodgate of tears.  So I don't ask it.  Her ill fitting clothes that were new too long ago have already given the answer.

She doesn't know who she is anymore.

"I love that shirt," she says and hypnotically reaches for the fabric.  I stand still allowing this awkward searching grope.  "I need to learn to dress like you," she stumbles semi-consciously. 

I tell her I only dress like this for public consumption and the words are wasted.  I tell her I know what she means when she says that and I can see in her eyes she doesn't think I really know.  Because how could I?   I look like something else on the outside now.

Being the subject of gushing compliments is a strange slap of instant karma.  And all I can say is thank you.  Because even though I know that where I am is more a resting place than a true destination, explaining my inner damage and my end goal would burn out the beacon she so clearly needs. 

All I want to tell her is that we are all an ocean of misfit toys.  And misfit toys are my favorite.


Mom et al said...

Beautiful and heartbreaking. Hello, new friend. I am so glad to have met you.

amydpp said...

Wow, I love finding new blogs. I love it even more when they are as awesome as this one.

Dawn said...

You'll get tired of me saying this, but beautifully put, Silver. Truly.