Sunday, February 1, 2004

The Woman in the Glass Box

The pictures above are dedicated to the Woman in the Glass Box, the woman who lives within myself. She is my slim self and like the glass box, she is so very fragile. Her nudity represents the essence of her very being and the exposure of all her imperfections are what makes her all the more beautiful, inside and out. She is the perfect me, the me I am afraid to show to the world, for fear of getting hurt one more time. She lives there, day after day, and waits for the day when I will allow her to emerge. With each passing day, she waits. With each passing week, she waits. With each passing month, she waits. With each passing year, she waits. She's longing to come out of the box. Like a beautiful treasure, she is put away for another day, and another day, and for yet, another day. It is so cruel to keep her waiting. It is so cruel to keep her from becoming a part of my world. Will she continue to wait until she becomes nothing more than a memory of what might have been?!

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