thirteen

At thirteen, the world is colorful and blurry. The streets are full of shadows that whisper her name. She breathes quickly, runs, laughs, but something inside her breaks every time she closes her eyes. Her friend is a mirror, showing her who she can be, who she wants to be, who she fears she already is. Her mother looks at her and doesn't recognize her. When did the child leave her? When did she become a stranger in her own home? Her arms are outstretched, but the void between them grows. Nights full of flickering lights, moments that seem free, but dawn breaks and everything is heavy. The body, the gaze, the soul that tries to remember if it was once different.