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Realizations When Getting Ready

By Reese Brown

I got ready for work today.
Though, by the time I was done
I realized I couldn’t recognize 
whoever stared back in the mirror.

For some reason it was this 
bright, sunny morning,
the kind with a brisk, cold breeze
lingering throughout the transition to spring,
I fully gathered that I’d never be
who everyone sees me as
or wants me to be.

My cramping hands and tired eyes 
lay as secrets, whispers on the wind,
conspiracies of the battle of identity that 
rages on within me.
 
Bouncing knees cause spiritual quakes, 
yet I then call to my friend, the devil’s advocate 
named anxiety, who informs everyone that 
I am exhausted: plain and simple.
We are all exhausted: simple and plain.
This fatigue’s left to confusion — not actualization.

I dream of scars below the under breast
that I trace with calloused fingers
not from writing, but from carpentry or mechanics.
I imagine myself, a real charmer,
who gives the smuggest of smirks to the girl across the table,
playing a game of chess that I am sure to win.

Ambition serves as a hunger unmet,
a vision unseen, a voice unheard,
and this girlish reflection stares
owlishly, a stranger in my home.
The hunger bites back with blunt teeth and sharp claws.
These realizations are not kind nor easy — I am a man.
I awaken from my stupor and prepare for my nine to five.

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