Letters: To Whom It Concerns

I'm that person who hides perfectionist tendencies behind quiet exteriors,

to make sure that balance is always there,

contradictory statements are always made on when I start describing

how music makes the world twirl in rapid succession to thumping beats of

blood and electrifying bass through flailing limbs of fancy,

make believe rituals flowing through the air and weaving runes onto my very

being;

begging, no, pleading, to be that child who was so voice full of

her thoughts and never hid a false statement in the pot of split-pea soup,

how does it feel when I start describing my childhood and how it went from

fanciful flouncy flowy dresses of monkey kings and upside-down cakes, to ripped jeans

mud cakes, baked with the best of intentions, and little worm decorations that were pink

and disturbed the eyes with erotic curves and writhing figures,

when did I start describing how I was never a fan of tea parties when dressed as a royal

figure topped with cherry lime-aide crown,

How the female mind at the age of 4 disgusted me,

I hated preschool,

being told what to do and how to do it was never my style,

stripped bare to what I loved, and shoved inside of an outdated box of femininity

that was not my forte,

being cajoled to understand things about life that even the aliens wanted nothing do with,

was I that undesirable as a human that the very race I belonged had to change my soul

to fit their world of cynicism and block molds that had been breaking down into dust

from decades of use and misuse.

This was where I started describing dinosaurs to my friends, the Raptors were my friends dusted in flamboyant feathers to distract from the turmoil inside,

the Longnecks towered over the crowd as gentle huge footed giants that forgot about

the squirrel mushed between their toes,

Duckbills were placid,

Spiketails were wanderers lost amongst the foliage of brick walls,

The T-Rex was thought of as dumb and without purpose

but with a heart of platinum shining bright,

The world of dinosaurs is the time I wish I could have been alive to see, strong ideas

preying on weak minds and weak bodies finding strength in stealth,

Delivering blows to the psyche of young saplings grasping at rays of light,

Taking those rose-colored rays and slashing them with black and blue swirls of ridicule and condescending smirks,

But not everything is how it is originally described,

Time is not the enemy,

Maybe it is

It tricks the synapses to think that it means no harm

that it is only there to make the day go by faster to let you out of the prison of mundane

lectures and horrible bosses too absorbed in their own lives that they don’t realize how this

world works,

It is not so black and white that

taking life is just a pass time of Charon's,

who lives with his family amongst the taken souls in homes dashed with hues of gray and red,

He feeds them like pigeons at the park and treats them fairly,

Unruly behavior is not tolerated,

when it becomes too much they’re sent down to

Hades to serve their punishment for civil disobedience,

Those who are good to fellow spirits and men in their former lives,

are allowed to meet their families with sight unseen before re-entering their lives

thorough another soul to keep on reliving and meeting every member of the family.

So where do I start describing my life? My

chaotic haphazard and odd ball life, full of

unbalanced ideas of how it should go, of how my life

is not going along the ridged edge that most believe it should go,

How do I describe my future when there is nothing there to be seen,

hidden from the third eye and muddled by insecurities

maybe

Nothing is as described in life,

because it hasn't happened yet