Gabby Windey

I dig deep and cannot find the confidence.

My shoulders roll forward and my neck rolls...

Vince, my plebeian childhood, everyone knows I'm an outsider.

I don't know any of these people.

And over my dead body will I be a hanger on her.

I will not sink my claws into the popular girl so one day I might make it onto her stories.

Even though I am desperate for fame.

But my pride is bigger.

Not me, I'll live in a lonely solitude before I sacrifice this pride.

So I'll stick to the back and observe by one tiny sip by tiny sip of a skinny margarita.

And after three full glasses of tiny sips, maybe I'll get up and dance.

My favorite activity, I'll hypnotize the crowd, every person in the room by my thrusting hips and disconnecting arms.

to seduce every esteemed producer who might be lingering, director and wannabe in the room.

I'll take any attention I can get.

I don't care if you're a poser.

Okay, I have a plan.

And then a team of suitcases with sci-fi products to shapeshift me walk into the room

and I only slightly recognize my home and myself, for my identifiable clip atop my head disappears.

Who is she?

But don't I want to look like myself?