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Untangling
I have mixed opinions on necklaces.
They might be hatched with gold, platinum, or silver
They might be inlaid with pearls, corals, or diamonds
They might be tailored to short, long, or extra-long.
There is a myriad of necklaces,
each
unique.
When I am wearing a necklace
it feels like I am wearing two copies of myself.
But
My necklaces don’t get to appreciate
their beauty
when they are stuffed in
unorganized jewelry box inside my bathroom
drawer.
wigging through the gold foil cracks between the blue and purple dividers trying to escape.
It is up to me to
untangle
and put them around my neck.
Only when they are untangled,
others get a rudimentary glance of the uniqueness.
I chase this feeling--
reassurance
everything is done for me.
But the real Ivanna
doesn't get untangled by anyone.
Ivanna has to escape her jewelry box
to appreciate her beauty.
No one can untangle her
except herself.
She jotted down her thoughts in a blue diary
on a bedside table next to her bed frame.
Renegade of friends.
Jealousy of preeminence.
Paroxysms of anger.
or
Falling in love.
Banters between best friends.
Precious bonds with parents.
Looking back at her beginning with writing,
When a knot appears in Ivanna’s life,
She writes.
When a knot appears in my life.
I still write.
Writing untangles me
me untangling a necklace.
I think
I chase this feeling more--
power
I am doing everything.
writing is untangling me.
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This one is about what writing means to me! Enjoy :)