Soliloquy

Mar 26, 2008 - 12:36 PM PST

Back in high school where the highlight of my morning was sitting in the pink and blue booths of my honors study hall playing poker and flicking the cards across the room at Karl’s face, part of the school thought I was a prude, some thought I was a slut, while others had no opinion of me and I thought they had me all figured out. I lay across the booth on my back; my hair crawled across the seat’s edge like willow branches rustling against a window in the dusk -- my hair used to be so long -- my feet crawled up the side of the wall, my bright pink socks sliding, my toes caressing the corners of the tiles. I wore pinstripe pants and silk dress shirts every day because I heard guys respected classy ladies. This was before Nate and after Charlie, back when I used to sing more than I talked and slightly before the time Stephanie Mills told the school I stared at her in the locker room and so I must be a lesbian. Back then I used to starve all day and then eat tablespoon after tablespoon of sugar when I got home and I just loved the way my stomach acids sizzled up to my brain and I got such a sugar high as I pushed the scales lower and lower until there wasn’t much left of me to pity anymore. My world revolved around my hunger and how long it would take for someone to notice that the skeleton in my closet was actually just me sitting in the dark corner, waiting for the wall to open up and lead me to a place where the carousel rides were endless and football really was all that mattered in life.