She would’ve liked to give anything to be alice ayers. Rather she would have kept nothing to be alice. Plain jane jones with her jeans and sweatshirt, desiring in the finest thread of her mind a thrift coat and worn boots. Only possessions carried on your back are necessary because the rest will tie you down to this place you never meant to be, this artifice you never meant to become. I don’t need things.
There’s a frame she meant to stay in, of a mind she held to keep. She wore the same clothes to leave in which she came as if to leave behind not only artifacts but any changes to her person. None of it was necessary. Just the strength to be alone, but still reveal enough to attract the company you seek.
My name is alice – alice ayers – an identity I never meant to keep.