Accept Me

THREE

I skipped home.
I giggled home.
I smiled home.
I've smiled before of course. I've found things amusing. Found things worth-smiling.
But now I'm smiling in completely different context.

The sun will shine but always fall,
Although I'm small,
I feel tall.
As tall as could be, in this new state.
I recognise for once this must be fate,
Life is a game.
Play it well,
So Dear life,
Hand over
F A T E
I won't be late.
Because I've made the final move;
Knight to king, go home checkmate.

***

Skirts are tight.
I never had thought about it.
Actually it's not that it's tight...it's....fitting?
This is how clothes should be. Fitting for everyone.
I reach out into the storage box again, feeling eager and exited. I can already feel dresses and silk and soft.
I reach out to a sleeveless, pale blue satin knee-long dress with flowers around a white belt. It also had lace frills around the edges that ran into the inside of the dress. It was unlike anything I've ever seen. Stunning.
I lift it to face.
It smells like my sister.
Then I remember my sister. I remember why I haven't been smiling for the past two years. I didn't think I could ever smile again after Rebecca committed suicide. Of course I was very young at the time, only five years old and as guilty as I feel to admit this...I haven't been able to remember her. Her face. Her eyes. Her soft voice. It's all a blur. But that smell. It brings back images in my head that I'm not sure I can quite process as years form behind my eyes. I'm not quite ready yet.
I thought.
But if I'm not ready after two years when will I ever be?
I realise it now that I haven't been smiling because I wasn't being honest with myself. I wasn't true to who I was and that's all Rebecca ever wanted me to be. Was myself. Honest. She would dress me up in frilly princess clothes. But I didn't like the way the cheap plastic felt against my skin. It felt scratchy and uncomfortable. And I had already made my choice then, that I hated girls clothing.
But
This. This is what I needed. This is what I was meant to wear. It isn't dress-up. This is expressing who I am.
When I walk to the second box I see that this was my sisters most recent clothes. There are less dresses and more t-shirts and skirts. Even a pair of jeans.
No thanks.
I run my hands over the hard material of a leather jacket. I fist the jacket in my hands bringing it to my front and looking down.
—
I stare at the girl in the mirror. The girl I know is me. The girl that smiles and is happy because she is no longer locked away and isolated. She's finally free.
I adjust the leather jacket over the dress, adjusting my hair.
I stare at the girl. I stare at myself.
I think of my sister right now smiling down at me. Then more tears well.
But I'm not sad. I'm happy that my sister would be proud.
And now I feel proud.
"The battle of my life," I mutter to an empty storage room. I look up at the ceiling then back at the mirror.
I sigh happily, brushing off the leather and flattering my hands over it. I move my eyes slowly toward the corner of the boxes.
I smile.
No I grin.
I beam at a pair of angel wings waiting for me to get my hands on.