This is the scene in which I come back home on Friday, horribly tired after the whole week and last weekend and the week before that and the list goes on and on, and I'm glad I can finally sit and do some work. And it seems so absurd I'm about to cry.
Sometimes I feel like I'm not doing anything, and then I reconsider it and actually realize that I go to school (and study, that's not so obvious), I work, I go to drawing classes, I run this place and I'm doing my best to still have something like social life; the last one might not be going some well only because of my "i fucking hate y'all and the last thing i want to do today is talk to you" and "idk like i don't really want to do anything people do but i still want to socialize somehow" attitude. But that's not my fault I guess. I wouldn't be like that if it wasn't for stuff.
I felt a bit like going back into my really wicked style wibes, as lately the morning standard was "black goes with black and shut the fuck up". I mean, I have a mirrror, I really don't need to be reminded of colors you know.
Oh how black your outfit is today!
Oh thanks I had literally no fucking clue!
But I still have enough power to dress up at times so look at me, with shoes bigger than myself and a shiny thing I glued to my face because why wouldn't I. And a hairdo of a kindergarten queen.
I am so fab. (donatella!)
everything is thrifted I guess, and the shoes are Buffalo. and thrifted as well.
i need to heal the way you make me feel