Beautiful

It begins with baggy clothing that makes me itch, makes me feel voluminous, pregnant with truths I never consented to carry. I am at my childhood church and there is a program going on in the sanctuary. A pressure is simmering under my skin, so I have stepped out to find somewhere to hide.  My friend thinks I'm going to the bathroom so she gets up to join me, as girls do. I enter a stall and close the door, wondering how well I am hidden. While I wait, something strange begins to happen to me. I need to be alone for this, I think. I tell my friend I'll catch up with her later and she leaves the room.  The ancient, unfamiliar sensation boils into steam and then my shadow self wrenches free of my body. She is tall, gaunt, has bad skin, and wears different clothes than I do. Her shoulders hunch forwards and she reaches for me with the animalistic focus of a zombie.  Panic floods my veins. She's going to kill me and eat me and no one will ever know what happened. The hinge of...

Listening to: "Sympathy Magic" by Florence + The Machine.  ------------- I have lived a great many places, both in and outside the US, but I've spent the majority of my professional life between Tennessee and Florida, both of which are primarily Christian states.  The reason I mention this is because most of my coworkers across different jobs have been Christian, which usually means something positive, but doesn't usually mean I find them very interesting.  How do I know when my coworkers are Christian? They'll mention upcoming church events, or how they have no time on the weekends because they are at church. Sometimes they will hum hymns under their breath. Sometimes they will strike up conversations with clients about how God is good or how he's getting them through tough times. I'll read lovely god-referencing messages of consolation when I'm signing the office "Sorry for Your Loss" card. Sometimes the women will dress modestl...