If you see the girl in the corner, the one in the faded, ripped jeans she's had since high school, the black New Medicine hoodie that's black because she likes black, not because she's goth, and the fingerless gloves she cut herself because she likes the feel of things between her bare fingers, not through a thin layer of cloth, don't stare.
Sure, her skin is pale, her green eyes have faded to a dull gray, and her chapped lips crack and bleed but she sees you looking. She keeps her chin buried deep into the TWLOHA tee that peeks through the hoodie's metal teeth because she wants you to look away.
You think she's so rude, she must hate her life, why is she here if she hates it so much? You notice how she grinds her teeth, clenches her jaws until the muscles tense as she twists her balled up fists around inside the hoodie's front pockets.
And you stare harder.
But you don't know the girl, who she is (candylandgang), what she loves(grilled cheese, writing, sarcasm), hates (farm machinery, plastic cups, clowns), what she's going through (loss). You don't know she's wearing the faded, ripped jeans she's had since high school because they bring her comfort, remind her of a time when the pain took a different form, the less difficult kind.
And you don't know her skin is pale, her green eyes have faded to a dull gray, and her chapped lips crack and bleed because she's been through hell this week. She wanted to look different, better, but her looks reflect her feelings, and she's okay with that.
You might think twice about staring so hard at the girl in the corner. She's not rude, she's shy. She doesn't hate her life, she's sad. She's here because despite the timing, it's the offspring's dance night and that's what mommies do. She grinds her teeth, clenches her jaws until the muscles tense as she twists her balled up fists around inside the hoodie's front pockets because the physical pain of passing what's left of her baby, is anything but comfortable.
Yesterday, friends, was an amazingly uplifting day reading all of the posts and comments and emails from all of you. After a night of minimal sleep, it's come to my attention my body still has some releasing to do. I've been in a lot of pain, and the medicine isn't helping so I'm sure I look awful, act awful and seem like an awful person. But really, I just hurt.
Thank you so much for everything. Keep your stories coming. They really are helping me heal and I'm returning emails as fast as I can. It brings me SO MUCH joy to see a full inbox when I'm feeling so pooptastic.
If you want to know more about what led up to this difficult week, this covers it all: HUGS NOT DRUGS
Until tomorrow, tell me, have you ever judged a book (literal or metaphorical) by its cover? #behonest