april fool’s

Hello, readers. 

Here’s a thing I remember.

In Nashville, at my grandmother’s house, during the time when I was probably watching a lot of Party of Five and perhaps not yet watching a lot of Buffy, I really hated my body. I felt chubby and short and hopelessly unattractive. The thing I remember is how sometimes, in the bathroom, I would plant my feet near the back of the bathroom and lean forward and catch myself on the edge of the sink. And then I would do, what some might refer to as, weak-ass push-ups. I was too weak to do them properly on the ground. I thought if I did them like this, with the sink, looking at myself in the bathroom mirror,  I would feel different inside. I would feel like it was okay for people to see me.

I still have trouble with that. Being seen. Existing in a way that affects other people’s existence. But I pretend I don’t. I pretend I want to be seen and not just to exist and see and not affect anything.

The crazy thing about everything is how very much I want desperately to hide and want desperately to be seen.

It’s like how I used to hide in the closet when strangers came to our house, and still feel that way sometimes, but the best feeling in the world is when you meet people and someone sees you in such a way that they see inside all your closets and see all the different parts of you hiding in all the different closets.

Also, it’s really scary. 

Or something like that.

April fool’s.

Actually, it’s exactly like that.

ttfn, readers.