It sticks to me, softly or suffocating or itchy. It hugs me gently or makes me sweat. Peeling it back, I reveal the real me. The raw me. Afraid. Anxious. Alone. Scars all shown. But, just to her. The girl in the mirror. The girl I barely know.
All day. Every day. Covered. A skin that transforms me into the characters in my head. Who are they? Not me, yet what the world sees.