She told me she’d been telling her aunt how I’ve been
dressing. Her aunt had recently decided to dress more modestly and saw me once
at a meeting. She wanted to stay fashionable and young-looking. She saw me
once. Once. She doesn’t see me anymore, so she was constantly asking for
updates from her niece on how I was dressing so she could get some ideas. Me.
Scruffy, slimy, sticky me. It feels like a balloon decided to take up residence
in my head and float me upwards to the sky. Not because someone thinks I have
good fashion sense; but because someone actually noticed me. I exist. Sometimes
I feel like I don’t matter to anyone. I guess that wasn’t true.
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