Blurry Portraits of Past Selves
People tell me it’s a waste of time, but it’s my time, so it’s mine to waste. Unless they’ve walked a straight line in my highest heels and taught fifth grade with a straight face, I’ll be dreaming on my own time today. The details are fuzzy but I still remember the colors, the lines, and the shapes. Who could have imagined that I would even make it to today?