some days I sit back and wonder what it feels like to be small. I dream of looking up to meet his gaze, instead of him being the one to do so. I crave the sensation of my head burying into his chest, feeling so secure. But instead I settle for my chin resting on his shoulder. It pains me when they don’t look down to me, when instead they’re meeting my eyes or worse, looking up to me.
I don’t mind my tummy or my thighs that touch. My round cheeks and hips don’t bother me. It’s only my tall height that gets me down, that makes me feel so self-conscious. I’ve cried and cried and cried, prayed and prayed and prayed, that some day I’ll wake up in a new body. A smaller body, one just four inches shorter. So I can hear his heartbeat drum in my ear, so I can look up to meet his gaze. So that I can feel secure and not uncomfortable. Maybe one day I can accept, but for now I just want to feel small.