I am not scared of you. I do not find you intimidating or mean. I don’t think you want me to be scared of you, but I say this for my sake. I remind myself that Golden Gooses and a North Face backpack doesn’t mean that you are better than my GoodWill tennis shoes and hand-me-down JanSport.
I am not scared of you, though I hope you can’t tell that these jeans are my sister’s that my mom altered and not from Urban Outfitters like I told you. You were so happy to be matching with me. And so was I.
I am not scared of you, as you look at me through darkened eyelashes. But I try my best to hide the various bumps and scabs dotting my face by resting my chin in my hand.
I am not scared of you. But I might be scared of your hair. It’s pin straight. When you flip it over your shoulder with your perfectly manicured fingers, I have to dodge out of the way to avoid getting sliced by the blades. Meanwhile, my frizzy curls hang heavily over my older brother’s t-shirt (you like it because it looks “vintage”).
I am not scared of you. However if my four-bedroom-two-and-a-half-bath were to enter the boxing ring with your who-the-hell-needs-four-spare-bedrooms-and-ten-toilets, the former would be KO’d by the garage alone. So yeah, let’s do your place for the sleepover on Friday.
I am not scared of you. Of course, you will never know any of this. You will never know that I looked in the mirror this morning oozing with confidence. That I walked through the double doors and my clothes instantly faded to rags in comparison to yours. How do you do it?
About the Creator
twenty-something
Because who doesn't want to hear what a girl in her twenties has to say?
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You Ruined The Stars
I can't look at the stars anymore. You ruined them for me. You ruined them because we were looking at the stars that night. Shivering. We were the only two left by the fire. Now I know why you stayed out even though you couldn't stop yawning. All of our other friends had long gone to bed but you claimed you weren't tired. As for why I stayed out so late that night, I don't know, but I liked being with you. I liked when we held hands to tease our friends who thought we were together, even after they had left. I liked when I got sleepy and moved closer so I could rest my head on your shoulder and you put your arms around me. I liked hearing our footsteps pound on the asphalt as we ran back towards the fire because the cold was pinching at our skin.
By twenty-something4 years ago in Confessions
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Welcome to the Winners Announcement for The Ritual of Winter challenge. This prompt focused on winter rituals and the meaning that settles into them over time. The top pieces stay grounded in ordinary acts and repeated routines, letting winter shape the work through pace, attention, and restraint.
By Vocal Curation Team6 days ago in Resources
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