When my mother gave birth to me, I was blue. I could not breathe, like I already knew how hard life would be. My brain wasn’t correclty oxygenated, the outside world couldn’t reach me. Truly, it never did. So I built my own, where all the blue kids lived. Blue like my emotions, blue like the sky. I spent my time dreaming when I was in school, looking up, to see if I could find my home in the clouds. I was born different, I wasn’t even meant to live, really. In fact, my baby body didn’t fight, the miracles and wonders of medecine saved me. Eventually, I grew up to be a pretty normal fucked-up kid. A white, kind of straight, wealthy, girl. With ambitions and good grades. But, this one part of my identity, that didn’t fit in, never did. This strange space between my ideas and my words, this bitter taste in my mouth, this hunger in my heart, all of these will never be like other people’s. So, I dance, I dance to the never-ending, bewildered, sounds of life. My insides burning with every step I take, with a deadly rage. It’s the mysterious ways of love, some say. I choose to believe it’s the curse of loving life too much, when you were never meant to be.