November 12th, 2014


(no subject)

I walked in and dropped my bike bag on the table so I could free hands to go get the usual pot of tea I drank while working. As I did, I brushed the mussed hair out of my face with my other hand: the trip back to the South Side had been windy to the point where I nearly lost my hair ornament in traffic, only retaining it by mashing it down with one hand as I found a place to pull out of Oakland traffic.

A few feet away, a mother and child sat, and both looked up at me briefly as I set my stuff down. I walked back to the counter to order my tea, unfortunately letting my mind wonder if any child would want to grow up like me, or, for that matter, if their parent would want them to.

I remembered, though, on the very last day I was kicking myself that no one would ever want to grow up to be me was I told in the exact words I'd used to doubt myself: "I want to be you when I grow up." Perhaps I didn't look like the screw-up I often felt like, after all. At least, not always.

Step 91: Assuming you'll always be prejudged, especially in the most negative light possible, does you no service.