For my studio art class, I have to create a project designed around ritual. I chose to have a ritual of recording my feelings in a journal each day until the project’s due date, pick a corresponding fabric square that matches my feelings for each day based on color, print, texture, etc and then sew them together in a quilt.
Looking over my emotions has got me unsettled. Like a boiling pot of water, things that I need to fix will keep rising to the surface until I do something. Reading entries I wrote previously isn’t helping.
I’m afraid to age.
Not because of the aches and pains in my body
Or the aches of losing people.
But because society will disregard me and throw me out like restaurant trash simply because I’m older.
And this will mean me doing the same with my self respect.
He was interesting, intimidating. A long forgotten desert slept on his cheek. Behind his eyes lay emerald fields of grass separated by a rolling sea. I looked into them and thought and I have never left home.