I got out. I’ve lived a full life. I was in hiding, yea, but I had peers, whom I shared everything with. We learned from each other. We stole from each other. Looks I tried and discarded were taken up by others. At times I was frail, but strength isn’t only found in the body. In the absence of skin, scar tissue will do. I learned patience waiting in envy for attention. Now, I flare up when I’m looked at, expanding to my limits as a self defense mechanism. hey say if you see a mountain lion in the wild, you should make yourself look larger, but don’t look it in the eye. I don’t look back, at you or what I used to be. I live in the moment, but am a record that can be played backwards. If we are in fact a summation of our experiences, then she and I are the same. Do I look like her? Do I have her features? I am suspicious, as she is. I react, as she does. I will return to sludge, as she will. I am her dream, and she mine.
