And pretend

To be someone I wasn’t

I’d be a knight in shining armor
  Leaping from the precipice of my couch

      To tame the vile plastic dragon to become my trusty steed

Or a pirate

      Raiding rotted ships by disintegrating docks

      Making treasure maps that lead to nowhere tangible

I still play pretend and dress up

It’s different now, at twenty something.
Somehow.

By day, my costume consists of a polite smile (often through gritted teeth), graphic tees, a doll-painted face to hide contempt, worn jazz shoes, and plenty of bruises from falling over my own two feet.

By night, I’m wandering through the pages of a comic or a book

Or racing my fingertips along the letters of a keyboard

Or meandering through images and inks and paper and pencil lead

I live hundreds of lives my short life will not allow.

My imagination is my loophole for illustrious improbabilities. This sham is my escape.

A charade that keeps every one of my childhood dreams alive and well.
No judgment. No criticism. Just myself.

To give this all up

Dress up and pretend

To “grow up”

Will make me someone I am not.

return