Flash Fiction by Raquel Swann
The woman within cries for attention. She and I have a lot in common. For we are one in the same. One of us, her of course, is hidden behind the fear and the anxiety and the shame that bears heavy on my heart. She is the true beauty I feel from within the depths of my soul. Does she have a name, you ask? Even if she did I’m not naive to think that it is someone else – she is me and I am her. She is more me lately than I am myself.
Little things bring her to the surface and for some reason it seems to satisfy her for the moment. A splash of paint on the toe nails or a a little lip liner in the car on the drive to work seems to coax her for the moment. She keeps wanting more as I’d expect any woman would. She doesn’t like to hide behind these walls in a cell made of guilt. She wants to surface and walk the streets with her chin held high in the air. Whatever looks and gasps come her way she will be prepared for, somehow. She is stronger than me in many ways. She is powerful and knows her true self.
She is not like me – a coward stuck in a loop of pain and depression. She is proud, not ashamed. She is confident and looks stunning in a long evening gown.
She has been telling me to put lipstick on for many years and I don’t have any choice but to follow her every command. She is wise and all knowing. She is witty and funny. She is the life of the party. After all, she is me.