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So Apropos
Saw death on a sunny snowFor every life, forego the parable. Seek the light, my knees are cold. (Running home, running home) Go find another lover; To bring and- to string along. With all your lies, you're still very lovable. I toured the light, so many foreign roads For Emma, forever ago. |
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about art.
Art is what you can get away with.
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affiliates
bridget.carine. divinia. jieyang. gabby. michelle. monica. muk. patricia. sara. wendy. PLAYLIST twitter
credits
Design: doughnutcrazyIcon: morphine_kissed Do credit accordingly if you changed the icon. |
signs of growth or sour grapes?
You know, once upon a time, I thought you were perfect. You were that person I could never be. You were gorgeous and beautiful, utterly charming and charismatic. Just weird enough in a way that was enough to distinct you from stencilled bimbos and emphasize your mysterious and poetic soul, yet not so weird to delineate you from your popular friends. Once upon a time, I was second best to you, picking upon from your castaways, the consolation prize for the guys who knew you were way out of their league and picked me instead. You were the caring soul that called me and said "you failed, he came to me first when he needed someone." I hated you, yet I wanted to be like you. For the longest time, I wanted to be you. Now, you're absurd. Somehow I've grown to understand you a little better. The way you present yourself, the way you want people to see you. Its like you love the attention. Especially from other people who think you're perfect. You write little obscure phrases to show people how 'deep' you are. Then you strike a pose as if you're some bona fide sex kitten, or some celestial creature. Its like a mask, an iron-cast mask, over the truth that you're just like the rest of us - a flat-faced, chinese, Singaporean, teenage girl with a weird accent. I'm telling you babe, there's nothing special about you. No matter how to purse your lips, or angle your face. In the end, you just wear more make up than the rest of us. |