monologue.

for the play i am writing.
from the character Annette.

I never understood those women who go to such measures to
Look young.
The miracle creams,
The pills
The surgeon’s scalpel. Mark. Cut. shape.
Does it make you feel better that your skin is soft
And you are without blemish.
As if the whole world would have looked at you and.
With their magnified glasses and prescription bifocals,
Told you, you are imperfect.
“ I’m sorry, but you do not fit the plastic mold we have
So conveniently shaped, just for you.”

I can’t wait to finally experience life,
And in return, be rewarded with wrinkles.
I can’t wait to feel my existence engraved into my skin,
And know that those parenthesis that surround my lips
Exist to say, I smiled.
And the raven that left his footprints on the corners of my eyes,
Only wanted to tell the world, I was never afraid to laugh.
The marks between my two grayed eyebrows
Will be evidence that I cared.
And worried
And loved
And lived.