fourteen to fifteen I was

I remember having long hair. I remember,
I felt like the wind would ruin me as it whipped me about, as it
tore me from behind curtains and into sunlight, I felt
naked. I loathed the wind, I loathed
it. I closed my eyes. Everytime, I closed
my eyes and thought "if I can't see them
see me like this, it isn't real it isn't real"

I remember feeling that easily-swayed way, that
trembling-all-over-all-the-time, that shifting-sliding-about-to-break
feeling of insecurity.

I don't
miss it, I
don't.