These lips are thin and bitten—they bear witness of my intense concentration. This nose is small, round and broken, with friendly summer visits from freckles and burns. My eyes are green and down turned—both my greatest strength and my biggest insecurity. When I am healthy and happy my eyes say otherwise. My mother once harmlessly referred to them as “sad eyes.” I’ve never forgotten and they make me want to scream. Why waste such a lovely color on eyes that always depict despair? The lines on my forehead have been there all my life; it’s not a sign of aging, but of expressiveness. I’ve always been proud of my animated face. I’d rather be genuine than flawless. People tell me that I am lovely. I mostly believe them, except right before I go to bed at night...I often wonder how such a contrast can occur. I inherited my mother’s strong will and my father’s easy temper, but I have yet to discover where my face came from. He is tan with thick dark eyebrows and brown eyes. His nose is distinct and almost hawk-like. My mother fair, with dark red hair, and a porcelain face—free of freckles. Her nose is long and lips are full, a Molly Ringwald of sorts. And here I stand: A blonde, green-eyed, freckle faced, small nosed, girl. I’ve learned to love my face, even when I hate it, but I don’t know how to thank my parents for that.

i am.

I am a cherry red suitcase from the 1950s and I contain much life. I travel the world in search of discovery, learning, beauty, and enlightenment. I am covered in stickers of Ireland, Honduras, Mexico, and the States. I am constantly changing, for I know that once you have seen the world, you cannot ever be the same. I only get bigger, for I crave more with each passing trip. I do not have wheels; I do not take the easy cruise. I want it to be hard. I want it to be worth it. Sacrifice makes it good. It makes for memories. I love to exchange hands, always someone new to pack me up and carry me around. Let me see the world, I want to take it all in. My space is infinite and ready for filling. Open me up, let me see the sky. I want to see the mountains, let me feel the air, smell the flowers, drink the waters. I simply cannot be left dusty, in the attic, I will crumble, I will rust, and I will break. Let me get dusty in the desert of the Sahara, let me crumble in the Mammoth Caves, let me rust in the Caribbean, let me break in the back of a Safari jeep, but do not let me stay in the attic. I was created to assist. I was created to be taken out. I was created for the adventure. I must see, I must do, I must go. Take me with my set or take me alone--only take me.
© i believe in unicorns. Maira Gall.