shewashurricane

It’s not about what you wear, it’s how you wear it. It’s not what you listen, it’s how you perceive the music you listen. Anybody can wear Marc Jacobs and say they listen to Pearl Jam but do they really?

Another rainy day, another day with Feist.

My family is dysfunctional.

How quick the sun can, drop away
And now my bitter hands cradle broken glass
Of what was everything
All the pictures have all been washed in black, tattooed everything…

thecobrasnake

I’m erasing everything off my iPod to start afresh. Daunting but there’s a need for a clean slate. First thing to do, buy Feist’s records and wallow in my self pity.

Honestly, nothing beats a cuddle in bed during one of your loneliest nights. But because beggars can’t be choosers, I shall be content with the many superficial things I have in my hands.

So tempting to follow the easy route, the route filled with cheap thrills and emotional roller coasters, but I won’t because this heart is not strong enough as I have realized over the past month or so. Fun times for me not when the phone doesn’t ring and you’re stuck at home self reflecting in front of the dingy mirror. Honestly I can’t put up with this facade anymore.

I have successfully manslaughter my hair yet again. Just another stopover in my destination to become a full fledged fruitcake in this abnormally normal world. What’s next? A septum piercing? Hmm.  Sounds perfect.

“What a treacherous thing to believe that a person is more than a person.”

The person I thought I was is not the person behind these walls. I never did want to admit this out loud but tonight I lost you. My worst fear is now my biggest savior.

Don’t blame me if you can’t figure myself out. I’m the poor people’s Pete Wentz. My thoughts are your puzzle. But who gives a shit?

I think I may have forgotten the last kiss. Trying so hard not to get hurt but I’m failing.

Isabel Marant SS 2010. Exponentially better than boys. Right?