identity

She looked onto her windowsill and dismantled her dreams

Everything in her life was out of a fairy tale. Her name. Her gifts. Her clothes. A good fairy tale where she mysteriously bypassed all hardships going straight to living the happily ever after piece. Or rather, pieces. 

She structured her days at college perfectly so that she could catch her favorite soap operas during the daytime, study like a good girl in the early evenings and party at night. Life was good.

She looked at her windowsill and started dismantling the dream. 

What would life be like? No one believed she was prepared to take on the world. But she knew she was. She was prepared to lose it all and still stand strong. She would show them all. 
She climbed onto the windowsill and stepped out into the chaos an only, lonely naked truther. 

4 replies »

  1. It matters what floor she was on. When I almost clocked out as a kid I was on the 9th floor of the dorm.

    But if it were the first floor, it could be the story of a woman who took up nudism.

    Like

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