More – A Prose Piece
By Allie Marie
This is not who I was meant to be. At least, that is what I keep telling myself. I have a tendency to stare down at my hands – the tool I was blessed to create with. I stare, but all I seem to find is nothing. I want to make something special; different. Everything just appears to be a copy of another copy. And if that is all it is, can there be a point? And now , I’m getting so damn pissed at myself for even thinking like that. Is it so bad to want more? Not in the selfish I need some ridiculous designer bag or sound system kinda way. (Not that don’t enjoy those things.) But, just more.