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It's hard to stay in one's own skin, you twist and turn and it seems too loose, too tight.
The skin you show to others, the skin you see in the mirror, the skin you show online,
No matter how much you move and readjust it simply never turns out just right.
So many ways to exist in the body, become complex, none to become simple, logical.
There comes the escapism, you remove your skin, and pull on that of someone else.
Someone real, someone you know, or someone fictitious or entirely new,
Regardless of whose skin you find so tolerable, there's some thirst that it quells.
You don't have to worry about this skin, you can take it off and put it on as you please.
It's freeing to become a person that you'll never have to become yourself,
To exist in a way that feels linear, that you can explain to someone else and be known.
Something simple, that anyone can comprehend, something you can put back on the shelf.
And once you're done you put your own skin back on, and twist back and forth in agony once more.
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