THOSE WHO SUFFER LOVE
Fuck.
I am so incredibly tired of the whole rich white emo foodcourt rebel look-at-me thing.
It's so old.
We spent a lot of today looking for a schoolbag for me. And my mom dragged me into the abomination that is Urban Outfitters.
Places like that make me want to cry.
If you are going to have a blazer with big rip marks and holes sewn up with obnoxious colored thread, for god's sake rip your own goddamn holes and sew them up yourself.
And pins, yeah, they're not that hard to put on by yourself. You don't need to buy clothes with pins already ON them.
Get a life.
So, as I couldn't even see straight in that place, we wandered into this 'vintage' store (vintage my ass- they had stuff from Torrid in there).
But it wasn't actually that bad.
Because unlike thrift stores, everything is clean. And there aren't gross old moldy things covered in god knows what and smelling like dogs.
Like my mother enjoys pointing out, I'm a tad bit germaphobic.
Just because I have like ten cans of Lysol in my bedroom and carry wet wipes around with me. And hand sanitizer...
Yeah, okay. She's got a point.
But, back to the store place.
They had a nice rockabilly section thing.
I bought a dress.
And was going to buy a pair of shoes, but my mom's gonna get me some different ones instead...
Sorry. I sound very materialistic at the moment.
You just don't know how nice it is to be into something, and have your parents get kind of into it to.
It's a nice feeling.
What a shitty entry...
Oh well.