I am the bird that everyone knows.
Never sees, only feels my presence.
Visible in your mind, noticeable in your heart.
My wingtips are dashed with anxiety,
my tail feathers streaked with frustration and loss.
On my back, I am speckled with distress and pressure,
unavoidable.
I am cursed;
you are cursed.
I am cursed to live with you,
with everyone.
You are cursed with my presence,
but you can adjust to let me fit
make room
even though I'm unappreciated.
I am here
no matter what.
The toy falls
faster
faster
closer to the ground
its paws reaching out
it lands on the grass with a light thud
it hides there
waiting
quietly.
I have the chance to do anything
not quite everything
but many things
and I don't know what I want to do.
I could be a writer
or start my own company
or be an Einstein-level mathematician
I hate stereotypes
and the heavy, constant smell of perfume as I walk by my classmates wearing too much lip gloss
but I like dressing myself up
and I do care about my appearance
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