I WILL MAKE IT TO THE GROUND

I wanted to take this slow. It took me two hours to prepare my outer and inner condition. I thought of avoiding too many people at the beginning, walking around, going by an empty train to get used to myself. But my plan didn´t work out. The first step on the street felt like a jump into a fire: crowded streets with trillions of `normal´ people, wearing normal suits, having normal lunch. I was thrilled. I couldn´t breathe, let alone lift my eyes. I ran to the train station, a cocktail of adrenaline and thoughts drugging me with:
Run, stoop, take small frantic steps as a crack driven woman, hide behind your role, your dirt. Nothing will happen to you.
After a few steps of self suggestion I felt quite safe.
Just keep on looking down with the cap covering your face. As long as you don´t see any people, perhaps they don´t see you.
I was wrong. Half blind of tension, I almost bumped into a business guy, quite cute looking. I had a few key encounters this day and he was the first. His torn open eyes looked at me with disgust, shock and pity at the same time. And I figured: Even if I tried to be invisible,
people indeed might not recognize you. But they see you.
After a long ride on the train and a walk through the city of destination, I finally found a space for my mission. Now I was going to spread my newspaper, sit down and place my paper cup in front of me. Right here. I was really gonna do this, right?
Come on now, do it. Leap off into the pavement. Cower. Use your arms, the cap, the pullover as your shield.
Sitting there, all I saw was shoes passing by. I calmed down under cover until, after a few minutes only, I heard coins rattle. A pair of blue sneakers turned around and walked towards me.
What´s he doing? Is he coming to me? No way, he is. Don´t look up, don´t look up. Breathe. Hide.
A hand sank down to my paper cup and dropped a coin. I looked up where my view met some young
man´s eyes. I thanked him. He nodded and rushed away.
I did it. I´m officially accepted as one of`em.
I was terrified.
And proud.

Tank: trash
Pants: trash
Shoes: Vagabond (fucked quality)
Bag: Rewe supermarket
Make up/nail-polish: dirt