Growing up,

Little hash marks
up, up the doorway.
Remember, when I
was young?
The days when I
stood tall, prideful
in who I was.
Society has shaped
me, shaped all of
you. Slouching
in a tall shadow,
not able to live up,
lacking want to try.
Little hash marks
in the doorway.

Growing up, but
beaten down.
No longer able
to giggle for hours
on end.
Remember?
When life was
silly.
Remember, the
days when I was
young, small.
Awkward youth.
Growing up,
but beaten again.

----------------------------------------

Orchestra concert today. We played okay. But when I was sitting there in the crowd in my hideous dress and heels, looking up at that other orchestra sitting under the lights, breathing in the concert, and their fingers tracing familiar paths up and down the necks of their instruments, it was somehow magical. Dreamlike and beautiful. The notes may have been... ehm, wrong sometimes, but it was the energy with which the crowd responded, some swaying along. I myself was transfixed with the cellos and the way their fingers and bows seemed to weave effortlessly in and out of notes. I hope that I look that way when I play.