elsie law, district eight | finished, cbd 1

elsie law. eighteen. district eight.

I was cheated.

That's what I like say to myself, quietly, when there's no one else around to steal my secrets. When all the windows are closed and the doors are locked tight, and the lights begin to fade.

I was cheated.

Out of some grander existence. Something more than just being the girl who sits in the back row, three seats from the left, who has the best grades in mathematics, but wants to be a writer.

Or a dancer, or an artist, or a victor.

Something more than just me. Is that so bad? I'm so terribly bored with the world. School in the mornings, patchwork in the evenings, the same meal every other night. I could tear every dress I've ever made apart.

I wouldn't even flinch.

But I'll dream, and I'll wait; stay in the back row, three seats from the left, get a perfect score on my math test, think about writing an adventure novel, dancing to a song that hasn't been composed, painting the ocean without the distance, being known. Being more.

I say all of this from the background. Quietly.