I’m a little girl sitting on the steps with blindness. Sometimes I like her and we are friends. Sometimes I act like she's the best. Sometimes I despise her.
Looking down at my purple tights and polka dot dress, I sit with myself, my aversion, my inclination to smile at what is hard, to act or make it seem as if I like it.
I had to stand on the bumpy ride on the R train today, holding onto the bar next to an angry woman who muttered to herself and glared.
It is not easy to be cramped together on a wobbly train and meditate.
I stood with her and let her be.