The Back Entrance




Looking around that decrepit house, I begin to laugh as I watch the whites of the house slowly fall, being swept away by the leaves and the wind. I remember that summer, the summer I was meant to feel less than.

Threading from the front gate to the back entrance, I realized the person the world perceived and the one I saw in the mirror were polar opposites.

In my mind, I was a queen, a person of high standing, someone to be loved not gawked at or shunned.

In their eyes, I was a peasant, someone not seen or heard, an individual, if even that: the one who does their bidding. A horse meant to carry their belongings and an object meant to wash their behinds.

Someone fit for the back entrance.

Which is why I take pleasure in buying, selling, and destroying their precious love.

As I bulldoze the house that forced me behind.

I smile

As a wave goodbye, I remember that I’m no longer the girl from the back entrance.

I am a free woman.



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