Naked

“This is absolute madness, I simply won’t let you do it”. These words were the only piece of clothing I was wearing when I left home completely naked. My body free of ideas like ‘black makes me look good’, ‘I shouldn’t wear crop tops, I don’t have a body for that’, ‘Bikini- what?’. I was with my untameable body walking down an empty street. Both uncovered. I was supposed to feel liberated or embarrassed. I felt neither. I felt clothed still – in his words, in my ideas of what this would mean, etc. I was properly covered in my flesh and skin and bones – absolutely opaque. If the street had passersby, they would have still seen nothing of me. Maybe my clothes were my identity to begin with. That thought felt incomplete. How could a blue necklace tell me who I am. ‘But it does, doesn’t it’ – my mind instantly replied. People started to show up on the street, I could have been arrested. He came running towards me with a robe. I started running away from the robe and him. For a moment, I felt exactly how I was supposed to feel. Free.