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Teresa Wright

tracing twaddle dot by dot, letter by letter

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the hard part

The hard part is finding that I am raw, 
not just once in a while. The hard part 
is learning it's an always-on switch, an 
ugly painting crazy-glued to your wall. 

The hard part is you cannot remember 
what was so cool in the first place, what 
with its clashing tones and hard blurring 
of classic lines, as if style didn't matter. 

The hard part is seeing that I can't fit
into the dress you picked out for later, 
couldn't amble through the market of 
apt goods, like an understandable cat.


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