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Incapable of being conquered, overcome, or subdued

I have always thought that I might be a writer someday, but maybe I am just a good daydreamer. Just because you tell good stories in your head, doesn’t mean they’re any good on the page. Where you can’t see me, I am a hero, a villain, a romantic lead, an award-winning delusion. I work myself up with imagined scenarios until my body is overcome with generated fury and sadness. (Concerned fellow Tube passengers, please don’t panic). Stories make you invincible on the inside, but the taste of it is fleeting. Invincibility is an ill-fitting armor, because it is a service only to oneself.

“This is good, Bea,” they say in dulcet tones. “Acknowledging your weaknesses is an act of vulnerability conducive to the creative process. “Ah fuck off,” I say back.

For this, too, is temporary. Soon I’ll be able to sit back by the pond and gaze at my reflection and lose myself in unwritten stories until I drown, wilt away, or maybe even grow up.


Story Notes

10/100 of #The100DayProject. I have a writing assignment due tomorrow, so it probably wasn’t the best day to get “Invincible” as a prompt!

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