Numero TOKYO June 2016
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To have the confidence and charisma of the most flamboyant of drag queens.
I want that.
$200 for a plate of food? Guy, my soul better tranCEND.
I tell myself that it’s okay to cry. It’s okay to cry because things don’t feel right. And, “What things?”, I ask. Any of them.
Some days I’m aware of how hard I’m trying to be a perfect soul. Loving, gentle, flowing through everything, but I can hear the strain in my voice when it’s pushed just a bit too far, forcing an identity that isn’t quite there. Too scared of not having an identity.
“Who would want to marry a saint?” I hear it, all the time.
But I’m so tired of days like this.
So tired of feeling so filthy.
So tired of the tricks my mind plays on me.
Please. Just let me be the wind.