Washed up

Once upon a time there
was a college girl whose reputation preceded her and flurries of gossip followed her where ever she went. She had appeared out of nowhere; no one knew her, knew where she lived or where she came from- she was a mystery. Her hair was always curled, her clothes- trés chic, her seams often straight and her lipstick always red. She wore heels to class, and fabulous hats. She gained friends and admirers. Articles were written about her, photos were taken and paraded around the countryside. She carried her own flask. She drank dark beer and bottled wine. She used a glass instead of a red solo cup. She lived a decadent apartment, tucked inside a fabulous mansion, far away from beer-soaked collegiate chaos. She ate, slept, and breathed antiques. Every old dress she came across fit like a glove. She painted, she did ballet, she carried an umbrella, she traveled abroad. Her life was glamorous.

And then she graduated.

Now she wears jeans and t-shirts. Her hair is seldom curled, her shoes are always flats and her stockings have runs in them. No one talks about her, no one writes about her, or takes her picture. She lives in a brand new house that looks just like the brand new house next door. She is surrounded by brand new things. She feels guilty if she buys clothes. She goes to work, she is disrespected by children, she comes home. She hates her job. Her boyfriend loves her but he doesn't get her. No one knows her, no one cares to know her. She can't seem to make any friends. She is almost 25. Her life is mundane.


It's been a rough Winter. Bear with me while I work though this.

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