I’m working on it, but I don’t know how to do pride yet. I push at my chin and strain against my curved spine, but I can’t seem to walk down the street with my head held high. Perhaps Tinker Bell forgot me when she was sprinkling the children with fairy dust; perhaps that is why I am still on the ground and everyone else is flying.
And so I continue on this quest, trudging across the roof of hades, listening for the whisper of fairy wings above. I imagine what it will be like to fly, to smile without the use of muscles, to shine without electricity, to drink in this high until I touch the sky. That will be the day so sweet as unfiltered honey and I will cherish the things that caused me hellish shame.
“The shame of being too alone
The shame of job rejections infinite
The shame of drowning in my personal black hole
The shame of a body too wrong for beauty
The shame of doing everything wrong.”
That will be the day so sweet as unfiltered honey and I will cherish the things that cause me pride.
The pride of independence
The pride of never giving up
The pride of navigating out of the dark
The pride of this body my ancestors gave me
The pride of doing everything in my beautiful unique way
I’m working on it, but I don’t know how to put the words in my mouth yet. But I can see fairy wings twinkling in the distance and I have hope that someday soon my feet will fall off the ground.