How do you tell some one you are not who you are?
I don’t know and you probably don’t either.
So how do I tell the man in fornt me that no I am not some French Philosopher because I still don’t know his name.
Don’t even ask me the date because no I don’t know the day or the month or even the year because I don’t belong here.
I don’t even know what I call what happen?? Channing bodies? Time travel? I don’t know I am supposed to be a 13 year old girl with curly blond hair and my biggest worry is if I finished my Homework.
Not a 70 something man with graying hair and a bald spot.
I tune back in to the man next to me. He’s saying “You go on in ten minutes.”
“Wait…what,” is all I say.
But the man is already gone. I looked around and find a man in a gray overcoat near the stairs.
“Excuse me, what I am doing here.”
“Why you are the main attraction” at my questioning look. “ Your speech on life.”
I want to ask more questions but he is called away and I turn back to the curtain.
I am 13. What do I know of life?!
Suddenly I feel the sun on my face and my limbs are becoming smaller and more tan.
I am back.
I can’t leave this town. Everything in it I know by heart. The little coffee shop where every high schooler in need of money works. The small post office which Mr.Smith and wife used to run the post office. Theirs the little library with every high schooler stuides or hooks up. Then the small ice cream shop where if you don’t work at the coffee shop they work they would work then they would work at the ice cream shop. Then their was their elementary/middle school/high school school all in one school.
If I could demonstrate to u what exactly I was doing I could say it in two words: Not worrying. It is a insane idea I don’t have to worry about what anyone thinks when this little story is happening. I don’t need to know what the word incapacitate means because I really don’t. I don’t know how to say it or spell it. But as I write this little journal entry for someone who is not me. Maybe someone named Susan. And she has 5 brothers and lives in DC with her mom but no dad. And she goes to school but the point is it is not me and I can write about someone else. So a story solidifies in my mind but I don’t need to share Susan’s story today.
