By Tess Bradley

I always felt I must change.And I reason that this is not only a function of my family conditioning, or A-meritocracy or some larger socially constructed system where internal pressure is spawned by the outside. I am somehow convinced that I must change because I am evolving.

I want to pull off the velcro of my past. I want to pull the past off of me with a loud, satisfying noise that rips open like a rain rattle, like the single most satisfying belch ever to light up the inner esophageal and intestinal universe. Bbbbbrrrrrrraaahhh!

I’d become an air plant. I’d be one of those seedlings that can fly! A dandelion daughter protégé. Set up a second life as an expatriate to this continent, this island, this Earth.

I always felt I must change.

Memorize the capitols, start each day with reading the news, breathe through my diaphragm, and get married. Knowing I’ll do none of these things, and the tension building.

Completion is a point on an arc. I must follow that arc. First, I must build the Arc. I must believe that two by two I will be saved by God through following his explicit diagrams.

Let me fill in some of these holes! I see my mother bracing and astounded as I speak at the table to her friends.

This desire to change and the pressure to be-someone-who-is-complete shoot me out of a canyon again and again.So how can I blame myself for flying over your head?