I woke up slowly

Struggling to swim to the surface

Of my subconscious

Dragged down deeper by

Bewilderment

Riding in someone else’s car with my unusually calm sister driving while we hop curbs and mow down security robots, accumulating electronic traffic tickets that we leave on the lawn of a stranger named John Heard.

Imaginary betrayals

My relatives both living and dead complaining that I never help and that I’m the most selfish cousin and an “East Coast educated elitist” which leaves me crushed, trying but failing to count how many times I’ve washed the dishes and desperate to demonstrate my unselfishness, but I cannot because I am invisible.

I thought they loved me.

When I am finally able to open my eyes, the danger and the lies and the hurt wash away into the waves.

Mostly.

I’m left brushing bits of sand off my body, blinking as I try to bring into focus

Who I really am.

Betsy Rosenblatt Rosso

June 2019