I remember wondering what she had that I did not. And in that curious moment, I resigned from the throne. It is not that I believed I was almighty, it was that I simply believed in myself. The power of my words, the power of my sex. Insecurity didn’t stick to my ribs, but for some reason, when I heard her name, I lost my focus. I wanted to know what she had. I felt rich, spine intact. Empowered, on most days. And, in comparison, she seemed poor. I believed I was above her. Isn’t it funny how when we boast our wealth, we lose our precious possessions?
She was a stranger, really. And it isn’t about her, because the moment I began to worry about how she managed her lane, I would swerve. Insecurity triggers and it penetrates each of us. You’re not immune to the disease. Her name came into my mind this evening, years after the fact. Triggers. Shoulders freckled from the season’s sun. The warm pavement during an Indian Summer, walking the bike trail barefoot. The dark tented sky that held stars like flies in a web. Walking circles between neighborhoods. Denial. Triggers. Truth. Triggers. Chalk it up to insecurity.
I wish them well.