I'm bitter. You know that? Sometimes I wish I had never been born. I feel so big, useless and clumsy. My hands are broad and thick, although they are soft and lily white. My palms are crusted with dried blood, tatooed into the creases, from the frequent nose bleeds I have. They are no fault of my own. Last night I awoke suddenly in a sitting position, tongue poking out between my lips, catching the blood that was running down my face, swallowing it quickly so that it wouldn't splash on my snow white sheets. Sitting in the darkness next to the toilet, half crying with tiredness, desperately trying to spit up the penny taste in the back of my throat...then crawling, weak and half-concious back into the luke-warm bed I had left too long ago. Me, with my broad shoulders, broad hips, big round breasts, sturdy arms, powerful legs... Perfect for child bearing and not much else. Soft and smooth, sure, and creamy pale, just the way I like my skin, but I'm not particularely attractive, not in today's standards. Straight brown hair, in need of cutting...a nose like a parrot's beak...oval face...swampwater eyes; nothing special about them at all... A man's stance. A boy's arrogant swagger. Boots that look fit to be in the army. A man's knee length winter coat. Straight, plain black dresses or men's dress shirts and black pants.. A fedora. A cream scarf, looking so much like a cravat it might as well be. Talent? Talent. Sure. I've got talent. Unfortunately I'm even plain in that department. I'm good, but not good enough to go anywhere with anything I can do reasonably well. I always feel like I'm fumbling in the dark, and sometimes I get it, but I can never figure out how or why I got it while everyone else does it with relitive ease. I have few opinions on anything. I'm plain in just about every aspect you can think of. Except, maybe, I don't care. I don't. I care about very little. *sigh* Ah well. I have to get off to the theatre. Marriage of Figaro opens tonight, and I still havn't got the alto part to the duet I'm singing quite down. I wish I could sing like Sydney. . Rosie.
Before&After
|