By my front door there is The Plop.  In The Plop zone is all the various articles I need from day to day.  My purse, my keys, my bag for work, my bag for work, my bag for play.  I'm stretched so thin I can scarcely keep track of myself from one moment to the next.  Stability is tangible, but I feel it could fly at any moment.

So I ground myself in my shoes.

Who am I?  If I look to my shoes, they tell me.  At this moment, I am a receptionist.

Who am I?  Millicent, the character I've created.

Who am I?  A waitress.

Am I barefoot?  Then I can breathe until I am myself in a role again.

{"Shoe Pile" by fuzyblucaterpilr, DeviantArt}

But really, am I not just a series of performances?


Anonymous said...

I loved this. It made me smile. It's easy to lose yourself in the various masks you have to wear, but try to remember that they're not separate entities. They are all facets of beautiful Dani. <3

D said...

Thanks love. It's just so hectic lately. I fear any slight variance in my already unpredictable sleeping and eating patterns could push me over the edge.

The domestic discord is starting to get to me too. I have no time to tidy or clean. Do you ever feel that way? That if your surroundings are in disarray, so are you? Ah well. Only one more month.