postcards

sitting on the floor in the far corner of my bedroom in my new lacy bodice. back on the side of the bed, playing with the stanley knife making patterns on my wrist. lying on the sofa reading my fifth book of the day lost in the english countryside with the famous five. feeling the cold granite table against my back talking to the star that became my imaginary friend for a long time. scrambling up a tree singing to myself watching the dog walkers go by. taking self-portraits on a bench in the park counting down to calm me down. riding a horse with the wind on my skin just like in the movies. enjoying the silence in a crowded city from the comfort of my leather friend-donated chairs. growing up.