Seeing myself in the mirror made my eyes water. Wanted to share the sob stories of my diaries with my sister. The way she is like me, and how much I take from her. I can't hide it. I've made a mess and it's time to clean up. This is probably the first thing to teach a child--to clean up after herself.
Why am I competing with my sisters? When really the power is in our hands and we can rule the world together. But why don't we do this? Why do we keep our diaries from each other? The closer I got to things the more I got consumed. Sister, help me see the colours that surround me. Sometimes I feel like the escape is to sleep. Eternal sleep.
Our electricity will fuel the current of the next generation though. Maybe the pulse and pull is getting too heavy. I can't keep my mind in one place....maybe that's why my mother wants me home. To keep her mind in one place. And the closer we get to the core of it, you want to escape, to runaway, runaway....
The words are throbbing and seems to only make sense in my mind. I can always make things better. That my place is at home. Whoa. Mazed ourselves back behind our masks. Or maybe home is no longer a space that can contain me. That's why the universe exploded into itself.
The place in our society where women are still cordial with each other is a beauty salon. To trust another person with your hair or appearance is a sacred code. Sounds like this is all bull.
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