Anonymous

She loves the feeling of being anonymous. No one knows the house she grew up in, what career she has, who the last person she kissed was, what she does when no one is looking or where she is going. She might not be sure where she is headed herself. She walks down the street often too briskly, occasionally too slowly. Trying to find her own style and tempo, caught up in what others think of this stranger they see. With each new melody that pounds through her headphones into her ears, her speed matches the beat. She is never fully satisfied with the way her foot lands in her shoe with each step. How much do you present to the world by the way in which we move ourselves in any one direction?

She sets her face to neutral to hide her emotions. Her lips are united peacefully, but she sucks in the inside of her cheeks to make herself appear thinner. She doesn't want to give away anything about herself, yet isn't she portraying so much about herself? Her fidgeting hands hide in the coat pockets of her long, black trench coat. She wears all black. She loves the clicking of her short boots on the pavement, it makes her feel sophisticated. She can feel the eyes that hold on her a second too long. She pretends to be absorbed in thoughts, looking but not seeing. Her head in angled just slightly downward so that when her eyes meet yours it appears as if she is looking up at you from below.

She wants people to want her but she does not want to let people know her. How could she when she doesn't know herself? She behaves differently when she is at work, when she is with her family, when she is alone. Who is she without other people or things to define her for herself?

She smokes cigarettes, drinks red wine, and spends too much time alone. Her red lipstick leaves impressions on the coffee cups she cradles. Seeking something different but also seeking what it is that needs to be different. Who will she be tomorrow? I'm not sure she will ever be content with where she is in her life, she is always striving, peering into her next life.

She struggles to find people who are not self-interested, who is supposed to be a friend when it appears everyone is looking to benefit themselves though the friendship? Aren't we all looking for ways to make ourselves better? Maybe they are only friends because she makes her feel smart. Maybe they're only friends because they were in the same vicinity at the same time. He makes her feel young. She makes him feel rational. He makes her feel artistic. She makes her feel as if she has it all together. She won't rely on them, aren't we all egotistical? She knows she needs people to survive, she can't do everything alone. People seem to be temporary in her life. She cuts people out of her life very quickly if they display characteristics she does not like. She might not take into account that she isn't perfect either. Perhaps this is why she finds herself with no friends, because she is quick to see the fault in others. She makes abrupt changes in her life. She wants to escape her past, get rid of all of the people who she has made mistakes with, who has gotten to know her too well.

She chooses silence in many conversations for fear of revealing too much of herself. For fear that they might see through her. She wonders if she comes off as stuck up or unintelligent or disinterested. Who wants to be friends with someone who doesn't speak? It seems that people unite through hatred of something or someone else. Can you make friends without that negative prerequisite? She is unconvinced.

She doesn't know where she wants to be in the Fall. She doesn't have anywhere to be, no place that is her home. Of course she has her parents house and where she is now, but no person or thing is attracting her anywhere. She has no one. Some days the only person she speaks with the is the barista at the coffee shop. She doesn't need anyone and she likes it that way but another part of her needs at least one friend to grab a beer with. Opening the door to a shadowy and empty apartment at the end of the day darkens the skin below her eyes.

She likes the feeling that everyone has all these unique lives that she will never know yet people are joined together with her for a brief moment when they sit in the same coffeeshop on a Sunday afternoon. When they wait impatiently at the same street corner for the light to signal they may walk, when they take the L together. When they catch each others eyes as she walks outside of the restaurant he is eating at. Is he eating with his wife? With his girlfriend? Are they happy together? How does his voice sound in the early morning? How would his beard feel against her cheek? All the people she will never know. All the people that will never know her. How mysterious.