My dorm room has posters and sparkling lights and fresh flowers from a boy that I don't like anymore. They're

carefully arranged like my life these days.

The ocean breeze from beyond the city cools the room at night.

Music is playing, by a popstar I'm a little jealous of,

and the light from the computer makes my skin look a little paler,

a little more fragile.

The crystals from my experiments in spirituality are working; I feel more confident.

I tuck my hair behind my ear and lean forward,

trying to concentrate on a paper about colonization, 

but I want to go out and explore.

I slam my laptop shut and stand and stretch my arms over my head.

My t-shirt barely covers my belly and long legs.

I slide it off and stare at myself in the mirror.

This is what I look like naked-

swollen and dreamy and ugly all at once. I'm not sure

what I want from my life except to have fun and maybe a few more friends.

I trace my fingers across my waist and wish it sloped out to meet firm hips but instead 

it spills over the edges and dips and divets,

like water spilling over the edge of a mountain.

I pull my hair up into a high ponytail and slide off my underwear, and head for my closet

where I pull out a number that will look cute to other people I don't even know, 

but I'm determined to be the best-looking girl at the party.