the city

Brida

I have created an alternate version of myself, her name is Brida. Brida is everything I am not.

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She laughs at all her friends' jokes, regardless of whether or not they are offensive. She sings along to the most mainstream songs, and knows every lyric. She is funny, with an arsenal of jokes ready to entertain anyone. She does not make band, show, or movie references, because no one will understand.

Brida dresses in shades of orange, pink, and pastels. Her hair is always beautiful, never a mess. Brida enjoys anything that is popular, becoming a fan of bands and artists with no real substance. She is a robot, only processing and taking in what is "in".

Brida is graceful, never knocking things over and hitting people. She knows how to stand, where to go, what to do.

She does not yet know about the perils of living. She does not know about sexism, or rape, or discrimination. She lives carelessly, only wondering why a man looked at her strangely, not thinking much about it.

Brida excels in school, but also knows how to make friends and be social. She knows how to introduce herself, and she is never nervous about what people will think of her.

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Update:
The date is January 22, 2016. Reading through this again, I realize the Brida I've crafted is hollow, empty, paper thin. She is fake. She is a lie. She is insubstantial. Retreating into her was something I'd deeply regret, if I did choose to embody her. Brida is a shell of a girl who is petty and naive, and I wouldn't ever gut myself out just to fill her. I've got poems, drawings,
memories, laughter, books, thoughts, musings, stories, and facts that could never fit into her thin exterior, and to attempt to do that would be to lose what I love about myself the most. Brida started as an idea, and I sincerely hope she stays an idea.