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what if i want to be single-spaced because i have a lot to say, but there’s not room on the page.
overflowing with comic sans size 16 to 19 because black is a caricature of comedy in the absence of white.
but instead my suggestions are rejected in favor of the socially accepted,
but instead i strike through the spaces in between.
i note the indentation in every paragraph as a reminder that even after covid-19 we need to maintain an exact distance of 6 feet, and even if my sentence is grammatically correct, easy to read, and states my message clearly it shouldn’t be highlighted because we don’t see color.
we don’t see the spaces in between.
sometimes reading between the lines feels like reading with one eye, because in hindsight our eyesights aren’t what really makes us blind;
we only bold what we like and only italicize when we want to add spice;
i trace the underlines on nearby phrases that apparently mattered more than mine, and they form a line to the bottom right corner of the page… the spaces in between.
it’s where i belong, never touched, never seen.
i belong in the footer, to explain whatever wasn’t important enough to actually be on stage,
and if i’m not an encyclopaedia of xenophobia, i belong in the subtext.
not in the title, the introduction, the thesis statement, the body paragraphs, the conclusion, or even the cited works page, individually placed one by one onto a white center stage.
i'm not in center alignment. in fact, i've removed all formatting to maintain a consistent font and size throughout the text not just to impress but as a survival tactic.
i code-switch to times new roman for an untitled document awaiting black text, text that is buried within the rest, and i default to a white page with margins for my marginalized peers who hide their rage.
i am the weak link and i never even hit ctrl + k. so i ctrl + v my skin off and use the blood as bullet points for my essay.
but that part of the image is always cropped out. undone. ctrl + z. so we don’t see my version history.
the spaces in between the parts that are required, the parts that actually matter.
i am in the bottom right corner.
the footer, and never the title.
About The Author:
Bethania (“beth”) is a rising junior from California. She has been writing poetry from a young age along with film commentaries and analyses. She is cracked at Mario kart 8.
Cover page by Yifei Wang
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