In 2016, I look back on the photos I see. The photos of me, of 2014, of footloose and fancy free. Photos of me.

But it’s hard to believe what I see

a photo of me

When all I can see is a girl dressed in women’s clothing.

A caricature of a make-over,
a dress that clings to all the right(wrong) places

What I thought were the right places.

What a feeling. To look back and know that everything that you thought was right was more than wrong,
what you thought was a dream
was the worst possible nightmare,

of a girl of 21.
is a girl of soft-spoken 11.

A sheep in wolf’s clothing.

And you call me a woman.


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