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belly fire
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So many versions of myself set in so many fractured directions.
There is the work Sam; quiet, polite, withdrawn. She speaks too quietly...not out of meekness but because she has nothing to say. Others shift their temperments for her, maybe they think she is too soft. This Sam loses a piece of herself every day.
There is the home Sam; commanding, questioning, full of conversation. At home she is relaxed and "herself" and her moods shift endlessly. She feels loved and can spread her love around evenly. This Sam feels less a girl and more a woman with each day.
There is police Sam; dutiful, respectful, cautious and watchful. She is inexperienced and afraid to step out of line - for now. Her uniform makes her look masculine and so she walks the part. Smiles at pedestrians during city events and silently hopes not to hear her A# over the radio. This Sam wishes she could do more. There is guilt here...and some disappointment.
There is family Sam; she has a place in the rightful order of things and this changes. The oldest, the big sister, the dependable one. The one Troy fears. This Sam walks a tightrope. One day it will all come down and she will need to be the strongest. Deep inside she is preparing for this day, she is learning to listen for the signs.
There is fiancee Sam; here is love. Promises and a future. Plans. Security when she closes her eyes. This Sam takes nothing for granted.
There is Me; alone I am all these things and none of them at one time. You may call me Samantha, she is my empty canvas.
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