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Shedding My Concrete Street Skin

It’s been quite the two years. Home destroyed by fire. First ever failed job. Shed associations with several organizations and individuals that didn’t reconcile with my values. And these are just the disappointments I’m admitting here. There wasn’t just one emotional bikini wax. It’s been twenty; sometimes on bare skin. Much of which created a cloak. A barrier. How could they not? When in a constant defensive position, and patching wounds, there are bound to be scars. Fortification becomes a necessity. No doubt, you all have experienced much of the same; I’m not the only one standing here losing blood. Not the only one who has felt as though the best protection was a concrete street skin. A

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©2020 by Constance O'Brien