Dirty Paws {Pthalo}

the sea said goodbye to the shore so the sun wouldn't notice
the seaweed that wrapped it's arms around you
the carpet on my cheek feels like a forest
and I run through the tall trees with your hand chasing me
I met a man today and he smiled back at me.

At first it felt wrong.

That first night, darkness enclosing me in on all sides, the very first time I didn't use a door and I slipped out of my house on a string made by bedsheets out the window. My chest felt so bare without the cage that had enclosed it for so many years. Still, that first breath without it clawing into my lungs each time would have been good enough. Even if I had been caught and caged again, those few moments without the binding corset would have been good enough for me. I looked back up at my room, at the curtains waving slightly in the soft winds. The cotton of my brother's shirt felt loose against my body, and his trousers not as encumbering as my skirts. I almost felt naked that night I ran away. I wished I could have been naked, because my goodness, it wasn't a loss of a family member, it was a rebirth for me.

I stayed up all that night to watch the sun rise, and then all the next day to run beneath it's rays. I don't tire easily, and just because I'm out of that house now, my condition has not disappeared. I still cannot shut my eyes for fear of death. I've only gotten better at staying up for longer and more clear pockets of time. I cannot sleep, when the world sings at me from all around anyway. I cannot sleep when the long grasses caress my legs in a sing song voice every time I pass. I cannot sleep when the stars call to me from up above. Not when I've been waiting so long to see the daylight. Now that I've seen it, I won't let it go. I did my waiting. Eighteen years of it. In that prison of a household. I've watched every sunrise, and every sunset since my escape a few months ago, and no matter how many times I see it, it never makes the tears any less. It will always be one of the most beautiful sights I will ever see.

Still, the voices of a brother and a mother that I half knew still whisper through my head, wiggling in through my eardrums, and nesting down at the bottom of my skull. The weight of them rest there, like they know that I can feel them. But I am never going back there. I've had enough of days spent hiding from the sunlight in case I get freckles. I now have freckles covering almost every bit of skin, and I love each and ever one. I finally look like my brother, with his freckles all over. I suppose we finally look like siblings. Two bits of pottery that look the same but never interacted unless it was forced. I won't say that I miss him, and his odd ways. But I don't say a lot of things that I feel. One of the basic rules of being a lady is that you don't share what no one cares about. I've had my knuckles rapped hundreds of times for sharing such thoughts. Out here, there is no one to hit them.

Out here, there is only fresh air, and empty space as far as the eye can see. The sky is so vast, and the trees so big. I love the trees and the stars, the rivers and the rocks, but the clouds and the grass too. I love it all. I feel like I'm living for once in my short life, Marian Fletcher is living. It is glorious. I have swum too, naked, to wash my hair, and t smell of the earth as well. I want to roll in all the riches that the world has to offer, and just because my mother thought me a lady, it doesn't mean I am one. If she could see me now, she'd surly faint in a ladylike manner, but she won't. She will never see me again, and that is one of the only things that I promise with every fiber of my being. I am not going home to her. Besides, she'd only get mad at the fact that I don't even brother to restrain my breasts with wire entrapment, and try to lock me up in a stringed cage once again. The thought of it alone makes me shudder in distaste.

But I can't always be awake, and I can't just run around willy nilly either. I've found through my short time in the real world, that it really isn't safe. I've had to learn how to protect myself, and how to hunt for food. Luckily, I did take my meager savings, and a few trinkets with me when I left home, but it won't last forever, and I've had to find ways to add to my income. I've learned how to shoot a bow and arrow, the friend who broke me out of my cage taught me so. I've learned how to kill animals, and strip them for their meat, the gypsies that hide in the woods taught me how. I've learned more in these few short months spent outside than I have on the inside. That isn't to say I was completely dull when I came into the world. I read all the books I could, and have been able to easily pick out edible plants. I can survive in the wild through the survival classes that my nurse put me through when I was younger so that if I was reaped I would have a chance.

Really, the only person I find my self missing on a consistent basis is my maid. I miss the girl, and hope she is doing well. or the longest time, she was my only friend. Well, more like for my whole life. She was my only friend, and I only hope that she doesn't miss me. No matter how much you like a person, it's probably difficult to continue liking them through cleaning up after them. Not that I was ever a messy person, no my life was spent immaculate. I can't say the same for nowadays. Right now for example, I have a simple leather band tight around my upper body, and am wearing nothing else really. Except for shorts, but not shoes. It's just too hot for anything else right now. The thrill of not wearing heavy skirts has never gone away either. I'm still left with the feeling of freedom and nakedness, pulling at my hairline, making me smile too often for a games time.

I'm tired. It's an interval day, one of the days in between the waking that means if I don't sleep I'm literally going to die. But I'm between the houses right now, back in ta wealthy district of One, where my own hose is. Sometimes when I'm this tired I'm drawn to it, and I can't help it. Today, I make an effort to stay as far away as I mentally can, so I end up somewhere entirely new. An old willow tree on the property line of two houses. The tree is big and old, and is surrounded by tall grass and long branches that touch the ground with a kiss. I should be more careful but the sun isn't too hot under this tree, and the two houses aren't so close that if someone looks out their window they'll see me. This is trespassing, but I'm tired. i don't know if I care too much. If I'm caught they might send me home, to hide from the day again. But I don't find myself caring as I tuck myself into the crook of a branch, and feel the tree let out a sigh around me. I feel safe in this tree, like someone is watching me, protecting me. So I shut my eyes and sleep.