In response to the daily prompt and Another Confusion Prompt, describing my first fully manic experience. You can read more about my first manic experience here: London Calling.

Oh Ambivalence welcome home, sweetheart. Half of you wants to be naked, half of you wants to dress up to the nines. In the interest of safety, you choose the latter. Birds nest hair, rouge and phone box red lipstick, half a bottle of Chanel, skyscraper lashes, personality clashes. You wore a tartan skirt, the sparse fabric being held together with safety pins. Ripped stockings, men’s working boots (four sizes too big), faux fur coat, demure white blouse, ready to go out.

You ended up in London city: how, you do not know. You’ll never know. But you made it. Small girl, big city, isn’t it a pity that you don’t remember the journey. Time travel, magic portal, the city is yours, girl. Traipse around, drink expensive cocktails bought for you by strange men in strange hotels. Smoke a cigar with a market trader, tell him that you’ll pay him back later. Steal a pair of Louboutins from a vintage-shop window display, run, run, run away. Stumble around hoping to be approached by a man who says, “Hey! I want to photograph you!” What did you eat that day? Nothing, sir, I had no money. How did you get home? Can’t remember, sir, I had no money. Weren’t you supposed to be at school? Yes sir, no sir, three bags full sir.

You were exhausted after your day of adventures. Content in bed, you fell asleep with the men’s work boots still rooted to your feet. Your poor feet, that did not fit the Louboutins. No concern for thirst or hunger, slowly, slowly you slipped under…


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