After a week of stressful work--the kind of imposter syndrome stress, the kind of how could anyone possibly think I'm qualified to do this stress--I finally started to settle into my own skin. It felt like a meeting point somewhere between my functional and dysfunctional selves. Somewhere between by bare breasts and my mom's 1985 vintage DKNY pants. Somewhere between my stress high and my stoned high. Like a ghost siting, heavily pixelated, I was catching what I assumed was a fleeting glimpse. I didn't know when or if I would see myself again--I knew I had to capture it.
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