Dear You,

trauma cannot touch the soul, though. you remember that.

and people who really love you won’t care what your Self looks like, just what your soul does. but we get concerned about each others’ souls because clothing’s one of the ways we protect our souls. ‘n if our self all shreds then we need to be dead. can’t replace the self in time to get a new one on. and we become this scapegoat critter who gets beaten over and over, and cannot ever create clothes fast enough to weave the armor we need to become acceptable to employers who don’t want to exploit us. so we can get hired but–well, there are always employers willing to hire girls who wander in with only scraps to wear. you know? figure either she’s faking the look and is a whore, or else she’s an easy victim.

same goes for boys.

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