02/22/2023
Nearing the end of a June school day in 2005—you’re outside with a free gym period because you already got an “A” and your best friend literally used an iron on the floor to get your hair crispy pin straight at 4:45 a.m. You’re chilling with your edgy classmates who definitely failed gym and should be participating, yet ya’ll sit drawing pen15s in the mouths of teachers who creeped you out, wearing one of your best friends’ shoes (‘cause it’s cool to be weird). Your socks help with the pain of your Adidas slides (they were kinda pointy, iykyk), however the borrowed Old Navy thong is quite uncomfortable, balancing the pain, but not your strange newly acquired limp. You clutch your Aeropostale purse that you got on clearance with babysitting money, fervently protecting two packs of Orbitz, a tube of Burts and Bees and three past years’ school I.D.s. Life is NOT good. You are an emo kid. You hate anything that brings anyone ~NOT~ you joy. You are a self-proclaimed “non-conformist,” that wears a shell necklace because it’s “unique.” You’re sunburnt, your hair is burnt…You are small, and scared, and so, so lovely. Your best friend snaps a pic on a disposable camera, and you hope it turns out alright. You hope you don’t look fat, or overly posed, or like a poser, or lonely. You were fine, and you are, and you always will be. 💕🖤
📸cred:
