I have been told my entire life that I need thicker skin. At 23, when I believe I have developed it, it seems as if I revert back to the girl who just needs thicker skin.
Thicker skin. People shout this advice whenever they can grasp my fears in the palm of their hands, as if I can just exfoliate this thin layer that engulfs me, shedding years of insecurity in a days time. Thicker skin.
An illusion that I have been chasing my entire life. Just when I think I have grasped the concept, it slips through my hands like a wet bar of soap, resulting in me chasing it frantically around the slippery shower I call life. I spend days dragging around my own self critics because I am both the recipient and sender of these internal wounds….. Thicker skin.
Yet, somehow I picked a life where every lip curl, eye roll, bad hair day, and late night is quietly observed by 100+ eyes a day. I guess I should just grow thicker skin.