Sometimes I wonder if you even remember.

If someone, something, like you has the capacity

to remember.

I wonder if you ever even knew that what you took wasn't yours,

what I gave wasn't for you,

that you weren't good enough,

nor evil enough

to know you were not good.

Tell me, what did I look like to you when you found me?

What did you see that you wanted to own

was it my freedom?

my home?

my hands?

my beauty?

Did I look beautiful to you?

My name is Shea Levi. Levi, like the jeans. My real name is Violet, but ever since I was born, everyone called me Shea. Violet is my first name. Shea is my middle name. I am almost eleven years old and I live in a big house with my aunt Julie, uncle Max, and their three kids. Allison is eight years old, Adam is thirteen, and Tyde is seven months younger than me. Julie and Max are really nice, and their kids are pretty nice as well.

A few months before I was born, my dad died of heart disease. Years later, when I was five, my mom got in a car crash and also passed.

At the time, my grandparents couldn’t let me live with them. The only other people in my family I could stay with was my uncle, Max. Max is my mom, Helen’s brother. About a week after my mother died, I took all of my stuff, including Sky, the doll my mother gave me the day of my birth, the picture of them I have on my nightstand, and the photo of Ruben, Mom, and me, and brought them to Max and Julie’s house. They let me have Tyde’s room, so now he and Adam share a room. I liked the room a lot because it had a big window that I could look out of. I’ve been at the Howell’s house for five years now.

“So, how was school? Alli?” Julie asked later, at dinner.

“Oh, it was okay,” Alli said.

“Okay?” Julie said. “Anything special happen?”

“Well, we had a really big test in reading, but it wasn’t that hard.” She took a big bite of spaghetti and sucked a piece of noodle into her mouth quickly. Sauce went all over her face. She giggled, but Adam made a disgusted face at her. “What?” she asked him.

“Ringling Bros, World’s Greatest Shows! Elephant Brass Band! Can we go, Mommy, can we go?” I had said to my mom. I was seven years old at the time, and very curious.

“Sure, sweetie. Anything you want,” Mother replied sweetly. I was a spoiled child, given everything from cotton candy to my own beach house the day I turned 18.

“Ladies first! That means you first, Mommy, you first!” I was also a brilliant child, always the top of my class, and, at the age of seven, I was already working on algebra. My mom and I had entered the tent, finding a seat near the front as the show didn’t start for at least ten minutes. When my mom looked away, I had pulled myself up onto the stage and ran behind the curtains. In front of me were five children, all about my age, pulling on grey suits. I realized that these were elephant costumes.

Thanks skinny jeans,

For making me regret that chocolate chip cookie

I had yesterday after school.

Thanks skinny jeans, 

For suffocating my stomach

And urging me to throw up

Thanks skinny jeans, 

For squeezing my legs, butt, 

And lower half basically

Thanks skinny jeans,

For making me feel insecure

When I'm wearing you 

Thanks skinny jeans, 

For showing me what the price of beauty is.