post one

My art statement with your mind age 10 (potentially a series of posts)
(fiction creating reality have been created,
but fiction
of course) post one
date: 1.31.16

When I was little I played soccer
and the colors of the ball
and its crumple onto
the grassy field
made me feel secure
against the backdrop of my in-sincere upbringing
on the field
I felt freedom for the first time in my existence
that I could recall ever
it forced me to become spiritual
and immediately I aligned with the fist of Power
and away from the fist of abuse
and I realized quickly that I was smarter than others;
this made me afraid of who I was and what I could become,
and felt too late about already what I had become;
i wanted a guide a mentor
who was better than me,
and better than everybody else,
and then when I met that mentor;
I saw tha she was a girl,
and I was even more scared.
I realized:
tha because
she was
girl,
I would never be free again on the soccer
field,
that I had go to college,
and I had to learn discipline something I recalled but hated
and that I would have to write an art statement even if it was categorized as fiction
because it made me feel safe forever,
but because she was a girl,
I knew that I had the right to always feel safe
and I felt at times that entitled me to take away others’ safety
and so I entered at the age of ten, without too much of an education,
the advantage and privilege of the world:
of gender politics,
and from there I met a boy like
me but stronger
better looking
smarter
more spiritual
,
and even more athletic.
I found out that he was my guardian angel;
and I saw him a fully grown adult older than my mentor;
and then later when I was adult I found out that he was just a child
and that my mentor was his mother,
was everybody’s mother,
and what she raised
were Strong Men,
whether they were another:
species, or gender;
we were all indoctrinated into her strong Men model,
and I died in fear;
but she re-vived,
and I still live in every moment in fear
of what I am becoming,
while she laughs hysterically almost jeering in amusement of a complexity I can barely understand,
let alone stand with;
so I have my translator: my guardian angel,
dictate to me what I need to know about how to stand as myself,
and what is appropriate,
and I request what I believe I need,
and what grants me contentment,
and I know this is my right;
because I saw my freedom,
and I met my mentor.
(and that’s what she taught me.)
(is that all that that means?)

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