She’s skint and lives in a box. A cardboard box that she took from the dumpster behind the UPS store. No, she lives in a large place.
She screams often. No, she just has a very loud voice. She has a very soft voice, and had to take voice lessons at her local community college to reclaim it.
She’s shrewish. Nope, she’s calm and peaceful. She thinks that everybody loves her. She thinks that everybody hates her. She might be right.
She’s multi-lingual. She counts body language, and Pig Latin among her languages. She studies oinks. She wrote a song that pigs love bacon too, and even the vegetarians in her suburb started eating bacon (only at night–in darkness, you know). She speaks one language, but knows that monolingualism doesn’t exist.
She wears bright colors to look like her favorite bag of candy. She believes that colorful clothing reflects happiness. She wears only black clothes mourning her losses. She mourns the loss of her first love, but she can’t remember his name. She can’t remember her first love’s name…was it her best friend Faith who moved away?
She has never been away. She thinks the world is dangerous. She is homeless, because her heart is nowhere. She’s looking for a home and so she travels everywhere. She thinks the world is only in her mind. It’s a safe place.
She is a genius. She is a fool. She lives to jest.
She saw a man die once and was happy when he woke up. She understands that to die means many things. She likes the poem that begins, “I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow. I feel my fate in what I cannot fear. I learn by going where I have to go.”
She is an insomniac and wakes to wake.
She is ancient. She is young. She is a baby in the next life. She doesn’t understand the passage of time. She read in a book that she’s dust and will become dust. She thinks her heart is ash.
She encompasses all things. She’s the devil incarnate. She’s divine.