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 ofShe 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 andhada 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.
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.