a capo for my guitar
my sketchbook and a few free hours
It's odd, how I picture myself. The way I want to reinvent myself.
I want to be the girl with the big, round glasses and the massive hair. The one with the stretched ears and the leg warmers and ballet slippers. The one who can't carry a tune but can play the guitar until it sings.
The one who sits in the grass and sketches, who climbs trees to read a book. Who paints her toenails but never her fingernails, because they'd just get chipped on the guitar strings.
The one with the hidden ink and silver, for her eyes alone; the one who writes to live and lives to write.
I want to get back to living in my own world.
But then I look at myself and see how imperfect I am...
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