5 September 2016

crybaby

Crybaby - reminds me of young Johnny Depp with a jawline that could kill, Melanie Martinez (obviously), jerks I met while I was growing up and of course my childhood. I was a paradox when I was a kid, I was full of confidence and fears at the same time, who did very well in class and talked of politics but feared rainstorms and stray dogs.

The word, Crybaby, means a hell lot to me. It's the kind of word I want to get written in gold and frame on my wall. It reminds me of me when I was made up of tears and pink color back in 2007. I was a kid who cried a good deal and painted everything pink.

I DIYed this jacket in honor of the word that once scared the shit out of me. 

Wearing nanna's very pink gharara felt weird because I can't even remember the last time I wore this much pink in one single day. Maybe I unintentionally started running away from wearing pink years ago. I don't know, pink doesn't look friendly anymore. But I'm learning to come back to pink because in my life at the moment, I'm either all black or all pastels. And pastel pink is a goddamn glorious shade.

Maybe I am still a crybaby, the young kid of the family who throws ugly tantrums over little stuff because, I don't know how to put this nicely, it feels good. I cried as a kid because I had no choice. But now I cry over things that actually deserve my tears - fictional deaths, emotional books, tears made up of anger etc. The difference between crybaby 2007 and crybaby 2016 is that crybaby 2016 can cry and be okay with YES LOOK AT ME I AM CRYING I'D LIKE TO FIX EVERYTHING ON MY OWN. 

 Are you a crybaby?
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