sweater snake

I never felt comfortable in my own skin. It felt more like an itchy inherited sweater or a tight, white shirt that showed every curve of fleshy skin beneath. I never had the comfort of taking it off at the end of a long day, so instead I would chop and change the color of my hair, thinking it was the closest I could get to shedding my skin–being free. But at the end of the day, purple hair aside, I was still me.
—  Belle Jar