Skin

I’m so in my skin, do you get what I’m saying?  Like I’m completely in it.  My skin was literally made for me.  Like it’s a perfect fit.  Say– oh god, what am I trying to say– I guess like– oh, I hate when this happens, when you know what you want to say but you can’t explain it– I’m usually so good at these things–  like, I’m really me.  Other people really aren’t themselves, you know what I mean?  ……..  No, that’s not what I meant.  Not that they’re being fake, but you know– like they aren’t comfortable!  Ugh, why’d it take me so long to think of that, I’m so dumb– oh, it’s like I’ve got a tailored suit on, my skin is like couture, and people who don’t get themselves, they buy off the rack?  Now does that make sense?  God, I’m very happy I’m me.  Aren’t you glad I’m me?

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1 Comment

Filed under Flash Fiction

One response to “Skin

  1. shortnmorose

    haha! love the suit metaphor.

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