Become
By day, she was Anne.
Anne had seen it all; no skeezy guys with groping hands could surprise her.
Anne had done it all; no writing bodies on packed dance floors could interest her.
Anne had heard it all; no gentle words of love could reach her.
Anne was impenetrable; her flimsy uniform armoured her against a world filled with pain.
Anne
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BWJ
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Oddly enough, that is the line that I wrote first and framed the rest around; the idea of penetrable clothing as armour. I think it's a universal and feminine notion, the fantasy that if we dress and do our make up appropriately for the situation we'll be safe/confident/successful/loved - whatever it is we're searching for.
Thanks so much for reading and commenting!
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And seeing the monsters and men in gray scales rather than black and white. Very rich and rewarding.
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Thanks for reading!
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