it’s 22 to midnight; her nails are painted a silver green colour and Billie Marten’s melancholy voice plays through headphones.her jumper is a light brown shade, overly baggy to hide her ever growing figure, a figure she will continue to hide beneath until it is how she wishes it to be, or maybe until she stops listening to how others expect her to feel about herself.
she remembers christmas, she remembers summer and autumn, and reminisces over how pretty she looked during those seasons. when she had no care in the world, and life was a dream; everyday was taken as it came. no worry of what was to come the day after; only a reliance on God – in the sunshine, and in the cold, winter weather.
the past few months have been a struggle, and she has tried to fill the emptiness with many things that will never satisfy her; and she’s still unsure of how she is right now, but she knows what she wants; and maybe from there she can become her aesthetic. she can become the woman she so dearly, urgently and unapologetically wants to be.
so tomorrow, and from then on; her head will be held high because there is a crown upon it, and though life may be as it is, she will not allow it to drag her down. the devil has no control over her, she is her own woman. heading on a path of her own; and she’s determined to get there.
she will get there.