This piece is by Megdi Abebe, a Black woman, daughter of immigrants, and future MLIS student interested in zines and public libraries.
my greatest dream is an escape.
i created the identity of She when i was a 14. a part of her has lived with me since then.
how could i describe her?…She was loved by all friends, knew hundreds of interesting facts and had a symmetrical face. She mattered in this world and the next and the one after that and beyond…
She didn’t hide from other people or her fears. that was something i did.
i didn’t think i mattered much. i’d come home from school or work, minimize interactions with my parents and preserve whatever energy i had left for my life as She.
She best found life in darkness. when i was at my lowest. right before i slept, i would lay on my side, rest my head on my hands, take a deep breath, close my eyes…
i was a good writer, my family got along with one another, i could belt deep, beautiful notes from the pit of my stomach, i was famous. we never struggled with money. i never had a break out ever again. my springy curls traveled down to the back of my knees.
She was everything. She never happened. instead, i happened.
the world i occupied saw it fit to destroy me, so i imagined another where i didn’t even exist. it makes sense. ytsupremacapitalistmisgyny infected me in real life and then, in my dreams. how horrifying.
now, i don’t try to dream something magical or amazing or perfect anymore. now, my greatest dream is an escape. a real one. i don’t know to what or where, but i know it’s a different place from here.