she took a photo of herself looking forward, and she did not like what she saw. her eyes seemed to be going in different directions. she prayed last night, and her dreams, in addition to this, made her very uncomfortable. the moon was almost full, and she didn't know what was happening beyond her scope. she didn't know what was truth and what was fallacy, illusion. she strived for truth but found herself becoming more and more confused in the loop of it all. what humans were to trust, anyway? when have they ever gotten anything right for themselves as a collective?

she dreamt of horses. one, in particular, was jumping around her and playing with her, closer to her size. she dreamt of Italian family she'd never known. an aunt was pregnant and told many of her friends that she had connections to the mob in her current life. she joked that now all prospects would fear her and therefore no longer be prospects, but a friend chimed in that their mutual friend would still be brave enough. she looked to him. a bigger, Samoan-looking man. she didn't know these people outside of her dream. not even her dream aunt. the horse was playful but also alarmed her. she knew she was meant to be free.

she couldn't stop thinking about the unevenness in her eyes. that alarmed her even more. it didn't look like her in the reflection. she didn't know who that was. she just wanted to be beautiful. she just wanted to break free. she knew something was holding onto her or attempting to, and she demanded her space back.

this is my body, she thought. find another.

she became stern with these beings... whatever they were. ancestors who envied her, who weren't allowed to return, or something separate from her blood... either way, she'd had it. she watched it leave through the eyes. she told it to fuck off on the way out.

some crappy flash fiction from 2/27/18.

Photo by Marina Vitale on Unsplash