In Other Words

She does not stick out. A chameleon, she can—and not even on purpose—blend in, adapt. It’s no defence mechanism—in fact, she despises how easily influenced she is, how easily, passively persuaded she is by all she observes. But she accepts it nonetheless. This is how she learned to stop trying to label herself, stop trying to define herself into a neat little package, stop trying to find one particular thing she can say is hers.

She likes too many things, is attracted to too many different styles and people and genres and aesthetics, is especially talented in mimicry—and not even on purpose—to say she is unique. She meets you with your Carolinian accent and within minutes you feel as though you’re talking to your next door neighbour. Today she is an earth-mother in her Birkenstocks and long beige hemp skirt, her blond hair in a messy ponytail, her fresh face devoid of makeup. She is shy and introverted and deliberative. But tomorrow she will be devouring a novel about vampires, and her long hair will be cropped and fanned out in an Alice Cullen kind of way, fun and cute. She will dream about seduction. She will be gregarious and warm, and she will feel strong and invincible.

You won’t know her. (But when you finally do, you will find her exciting.)