what i’m wearing: pretty little thing tobacco tie side shirt dress, brixton willow
hat via shopbop, obi satin espadrilles via wolflamb, rayban aviators via shade station & freedom bracelets & rings
I am restless in everything, in love, in life, in the city I live in, even the clothes in my closet have me shifting from foot to foot uncomfortably. I grow bored so easily, it’s why I’m unmarried, it’s why I’ve moved so many times, it’s why my closet is always a mess because I’m chaotic and drift off almost every decision I make. Honestly, I could love a man today and ask him to leave tomorrow. That makes me sound like a horrible person, perhaps I am, I don’t know but what I do know is that I’m terribly fickle. I’m happy with the privileges I have in life and at 27, I am happy with who I am intrinsically but everything exterior to that? I’m in search of progression, improvement, development. I don’t crave a life that never changes, I’d like a story that continues to unfold but clumsily like an overflowing cup. And this yearning? It isolates me, everyone else seems content in just letting things be. Emotively speaking, isolation is lonely, boring and it frustrates me. So, I close myself off ; missing the people that filled my Paris life who seemed to possess the same strange sort of brain as I. Even some of my ex boyfriends, looking back our lives correlated in a way and I wonder why I ever left them and went away. But then I realize, that I can’t ever stay. I don’t stick and to try would absolutely make me miserable. It’s a strange sensation, then again, everything is transient in a life doomed by death but what about men or a home? These are two things that heavily influence a woman’s life. So, am I’m destined to desert every one I love and every corner I call my own simply because I’m bored and want more? Will I always be searching? Likely, yes but I suppose there is peace to be found in that. A constant search makes a giant story. I want a life lived large and I’ll do all I can to make it as gigantic as I can. All the people and all the places I will see and love but then, leave. I guess that’s the beauty but also the curse of prioritizing myself and my whims, wherever I go, whatever I do or whoever I leave? I will always, always have me. And on these lonely, frustrated days, that seems like all I’ve ever had and all I will ever need.
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