I lost her somewhere.
She got a little caught up trying to make other people’s dreams come true that she forgot her own by the side of the road. She kept donning pom poms for people who wouldn’t return the favor. She put her reputation on the line for the selfish and barely talented.
We both forgot about the stories we needed to tell.
If I squint my eyes, I can sort of see her in the distance, just over there, wearing red lipstick and making a list of the people, places and things to leave behind, alongside the list of things to focus on. On the top of the latter, is bringing her own words to life; nowhere on it (anymore) is “putting you all first.”
I’m starting to understand why writers are supposed to live solitary lives. Here we go again, on the road, chasing the publishing high. It’s a lot easier without all this dead weight!
xoxo,
Raquel Ivelisse