Thursday, September 25, 2008
Brigitte Bardot was once described as a woman-child. And although no one would ever liken me to that screen goddess, I feel as if I am the same way. When I was a little girl, I looked very mature. Now mature, I feel I look like a little girl.
(This maturity comes not from physical development but from my rather serious nature.)
Given, I have a penchant for strapped flats with socks and skirts and dresses. I keep my hair cut in a bob, the style of hair most little girls have worn at least once in their childhood. I'm small and often have the word "cute" applied to me. (Seriously, I'm not "cute".)
I know that people don't see me as looking like a child, but that's how I feel lately.
I have just used the word "feel" so often it's beginning to look funny, like I'm spelling it wrong or something.
But, continuing on with my "feelings" - walking around the city, I just feel lost and swallowed up in myself. The reach extends where ever I go. I feel small and insignificant again, and it feels wrong when grown men look and stare at me through their car windows. I am dizzy and disoriented in the streets and often look up in bewilderment when a car whizzes by just barely missing a collision with my body. My work is sloppy, and I keep making mistakes only to wake up from my shallow sleep to realize them and pound myself on the head. I can't concentrate fully on anything, my mind is teeming with all the other things I have to do. I'm fully awake from lack of sleep but I feel so dizzy, like this lack of it had elevated me to some high altitude and left my brain deprived of oxygen. I'm in a constant flux. Time is a 24 hour cycle, the division between night and day has been melded. Day or night is irrelevant when you're sitting in a windowless box.