enough

once upon a time there was a girl
a girl who's closet was created by name brands and magazines
she was blonde.        although technically a brunette.
beyond her shirt logos and bleached hair, her
own solitude supressed her.
she wanted to be that girl in a magazine.

her choices were premeditated by her environment; agency was null.
it didn't matter her indifference for fall out boy; she listened.
because the radio ordered and friends observed
she disliked her reflection, frowning at her lack of bust. and her
unperfect face
her unsmooth hair and medium skin
the acne and eyebrows
her whole self did not belong in a magazine

how she envisioned herself transformed by needles and stitches
maybe one day she would be enough.


one day


she woke up.
she woke up and threw away the magazines and tight shirts
the advice yearned from tv
and kept instead memories and her mother's words


one day
   gradually d r i f t e d
 into the dawning of
today.

today there is a girl
a girl who listens to her tune of music
a girl who, on occasion, make in-routes to mainstream for a
vacation but is settled pleasantly in the
current of independence.
she wears boring v-neck shirts
and let's her hair air-dry
minimal make-up and sometimes no make-up.
because she does not need to mask the past
or her present
this girl knows, for better or worse,
her road, her choices, her choice,
her future.
this girl knows she is entitled
to agency and happiness and love, devoid of unrealistic images
unrealistic expectations, and the pessimism of self-doubt

happily ever after is on the way. but now happily is enough.
she is enough.