I stumble around the bustling store
and swiftly scan the maze of racks
of dull clothing, but then I spot it.
The rare shimmer of that silver
lettering and the blinding pink color
that seems to light up the store.
I quickly scramble to swipe
the prize jewel off the pedestal
on which it is being proudly
displayed to the crowd of people
that fills the store.
I sprint into the changing rooms
this was what I want
what I need
in order to change.
I squeeze my body
into the petit article of clothing
two sizes too small for me
and spin around to meet my reflections stare
in the rectangular mirror against the wall,
completely sure that this is going to change me.
I could fit in and be part of the in-crowd.

But minutes later I couldn’t
pull my judging eyes away from the mirror.
I hastily stuggled to rip the fabric off of my body
and stormed out of the changing rooms
pouring little droplets of rain
along the rugs of the floors
to mark my trail of disappointment,
leaving the deceiving sweatshirt behind.
I would have been a new bead on a necklace,
but just like all the others
and as I constantly remind myself
of what had happened that discouraging day,
I remember that I am who I am
and nothing can ever change that,
even a sweatshirt