warning: this ain't pretty
advertencia: esto no es placentero
for the past two years i've embraced anti-fashion as my statement.
[anti-fashion: aesthetic movement from the 90's where it made visible
the uncomfortable, the violent, the painful truths of society's vices]
i guess it wasn't up until lately when i've faced my own self and this concepts became tangible.
in life not only we happen to cross paths and relate with people who hurt us,
but what scars us is our inner abuser who comes out every night hunting our sanity;
fueling guilt and remorse, poisoning our core and rotting every bit of good left in us…
[i hope to be ready to jump off and leave this dark place in my head, i am trying.]
anyways, i was a bit hesitant to share this installment due to how unpleasant the vibe is;
however, i hope that if you are going through some pain and feeling misunderstood,
know that nothing can tear you up unless you let it in.
[MAC film noir lipstick + Helmut Lang knit + Zara ripped jeans + vintage Maison Martin Margiela 'ruined' pumps]