hold on, wait, what, what similarities?

I sit in the group looking around, the grey plastic chair crushes my ******* spine as I cling to it for dear life.
the tutor comes to me last, two weeks in a row I don't get time to talk.
great, I'm already an outsider, now I don't get time to talk.

I listen as the group in the nicer, cosier and brighter room next door laugh and joke.
they are all young and pretty, a feeling of longing pulls me down like a giant magnet, why am I not in that group. have I not got the skills to be young and pretty anymore?

for almost one month now I despair.
how can I ever find my voice in this group there are all so strong, strong women.
this week she comes to me first, I speak, it doesn't help. can they even see me, understand my accent, it seems I'm more different than similar.

the next week I don't go, avoidance wins 1st place gold trophy as I sit alone in bed.
with other groups I'm so strong and proud, can I fake it next week, or maybe just conform and comply.

and so it goes on, am my question remains, what ****** similarities?

Deeper I go, and not noticing, I begin to rearrange my soul.

What ****** up things will arise during this 'advancement'?

I feel it, confusing me like a mist.
A thick and static charged mist comes each time I visit.
Sometimes it clears to bring lucid awareness, sometimes it hangs around and worries me.

Today it is cut into many fractions; life is visible through the cracks.

the forest she calls, a feminine tweet echoes in a masculine wood, I trip and stumble like a newly born fawn, he pulls me up, but I'm not ready, 'it's ok we'll walk together'.
who went before us, are they here watching in the sultry mist, his manly arms make me forget my promises to 'feministia', I fall again happily caught by his stone age ignorance
the ground under my heel is a spongy blanket of moss so soft I feel myself float
drift far away from society's rules of my role as a strong independent woman, I smile and giggle like a sickening barbie doll
if society crumbles we could come here to live, he could be my provider and I could be his jane in the jungle...
but alas, it's 2018 and I am a 'feminsitia'