dis-associative beings

part a - she sees papers strewn on a messy desk, yellowing photographs on the wall, and a girl, frequently interrupted, typing away, trying to not dream of a place that is warmer, kinder and softer around the edges. she suffers infrequent bouts of inspiration coupled with frequent angst over feelings of inadequacy. she munches carrots, drinks too much coffee and frequently speaks too fast. she hopes they dont notice that her left eye sometimes twitches when she's nervous.

part b - her laces are decorated with black stars and her helmet is white and speckled with stickers. she has the gear, she has the name and yet she's not sure she really gets the game, not yet. she starts each practice, wobbly at first, and gains new confidence and speed. but she still stands back, probably more often then she should. and while she knows she is part of the team, she still waffles between leader and follower. some days she thinks she is both.

part c - she looks over and sees half her heart, sitting in a ray of sunlight playing with blocks of hardened playdough. she blinks quietly, wanting this rare moment to last. she notices him growing taller and bolder yet, for the moment, he still needs her. for the moment, she is still allowed to kiss him, for the moment, she is still allowed to bath him, and on occasion he still craves her arms at the end of the day. she wonders if she'll spend the rest of her life letting go.

part d - her camera is never charged, her blog is never up to date, her twitter streams ebbs and flows depending on the day. she owes cards and letters to treasured people, yet never puts pen to paper. she wonders sometimes if she is stretching herself too thin, trying to do too much, but each time she considers pairing down, she feels like she's losing a vital tentacle. she's not sure she'd like living with fewer limbs.