The hard part is to let it go, to do away with the array of
pants she keeps on those shelves. To stop being Goldilocks, to stop worrying
which bowl of portage is just right, which bed fits her best, which size jeans
she needs to put on, how to let go, how to let it not matter, how to become
that one-size fts all kind of person, silencing the rattle of the hamster wheel
that wakes her before dawn and keeps her awake with worry, letting got of what
she thinks the world thinks of her so she can figure out what she thinks about
herself, ignoring the mirror mirror on the wall when all that matters is who
she is, not that illusive bitch the her seven dwarves.
Was there ever a time when everything fit and if so, did she
leave the trail of bread crumbs so she might find her way back to it?
Or will she always live with the dread of an over she had
created for herself?
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