There are two worlds I am constantly being pulled into. The first world being the ideal American women who is suppose to be striving to become someone society has no reason to not respect. This women is strong, clever, and always on top of things (the bedroom included). The image of this women is in the back of my mind, she teases me with her independence, her confidence, and the way she seems to calmly avoid all the tempting distractions of the world. The second world, which if I’m being honest I find more attractive, is a darker one. This women finds her independence not in the confines of safety and planned out goals but in the pleasure of the unknown. This women is attracted to the dark alley ways, to the hard to read man, and to the tight ways her clothes seem to fit her. I revel in the notion of becoming this women, apart of a world so out of the “in”.
The picture above is of the aftermath of a concert. Hidden underneath leaves, the rocks stabbing my already sore feet and along with hundreds of other people, I begin to leave the show. Adrenaline of this kind is partially why people go to concerts anyway! I can tell the people around me are feeling this as well. The air is sagging with rebellious energy and I feel safest in the middle of all these bodies. I didn’t know it then but when I saw these people with their bands tees, their companions and their radiance, I fell in love. At this moment I was the epiphany of this darker women. I wanted nothing more than to scale this fence in defiance, in the hope that the universe sees I am my own person. As I throw my bag and tied up Converse over the fence I picture myself. Although the first women, who could hold her head high with a spotless reputation, can be seen as a perfect example to the man up stairs, I know I can’t be her. She will always be looking at me inside my mind, with her piercing judge filled eyes, fixing her wrinkleless skirt, wondering why I couldn’t pick her.
Our world’s are determined by who and what we grow up with. But if you take that away you’re always aware of a small inkling of a feeling that tells you which world you’re already apart of. It’s not about whether or not your mother would aprove, or if you’re significant other would accept you like this, it’s about whether or not you do. Do you fall in love with your way of being? Do you feel the air around you and connect with it? I climbed my fence and the world that I landed in became my reality.