A young woman stands, shoulders back, arms relaxed at her side, head turned at a slight angle. Her eyes set, her feet planted. She breathes deeply, and exhales. Her posture remains unaltered, her eyes continue to gaze ahead.
She wears black sweats and a loose red flannel Pendleton. Her hair falls just below her ears. It is unkempt at the moment – spent all day under a hat. Glasses on, her mouth a firm line, she takes in her own appearance.
Strength. Something she perceives in the way she holds herself. Not something she feels at the moment.
A calm attentiveness. She is surveying her body language and inner state, after all.
Control? She feels less in control than usual tonight. What if her plans fall through? What if she fails to accomplish what she set out to do? Her brow furrows, she feels anxiety and panic begin to rise within her.
Breathe deeply. Close your eyes. Shove down the worries and fear. She tells herself this to regain control.
She looks in the mirror again, chewing the inside of her cheek. What would people think if they knew all this? she wonders.
She sits. They would know you are human. That you have stopped pretending to be perfect. You should tell them. She knows. That does not make the confession any easier.
Pressing her lips together, one foot balancing on the toes of the other, hair falling from behind her ear into her eyes, she resolves to stop being such a perfectionist. To publish the “unfinished” blog post. To stop fretting about grad school applications. Maybe.
She sighs. To relax and stop being so hard on herself.
Her shoulders sag, her head drops. Her eyes…they feel dull, tired. She knows they look that way. They certainly don’t feel alive and bright.
She turns the page, continues writing. That might be it for today, she muses. Now what do I want to do?
No energy, but not sleepy either. The night and technology offer a myriad of choices…