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05 april 2003.
its the weight of the fabric, the cut and stitch that presents her as a goddess of underground culture. she's got on what looks like stage makeup and probably spent too much time on her hair, but i can't take my eyes off of her, i'm transfixed by her beauty. when did i set such unattainable standards? when did the fake become better than the real? i have half a mind to tap her bare shoulder and ask "so what are you like really?", but it hits me - the answer to that question could very well lead to the reason for such a costume. though it's pessemistic and a thought based on fear, i go with it at the time to make it through the rest of the night without cursing myself under heavy breaths. |
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