day of firsts

I woke up crying, fresh from a dream in which my acting teacher said working with me was a bad choice, that I was "pretty" and I was while I was okay in this one piece, I looked fat in the other. She was standing in an impressive and sunny kitchen, mixing corn and broccoli together on a large platter to entertain friends. There were a couple of older gents in the corner of the room chatting cattily, sandaled hairy old man legs crossed close. It was summer and I had just spent my whole night dreaming about walking the carnival sidewalks of the city, alone and uneasy. I was wet from a crowd of boys playing in a hydrant; my pony tail was sagging down my neck. I slipped out of her apartment, called the elevator and woke up crying.

I opened my curtains and the world was white. First snow of a new start. Last snow of an old year.