A lot of superficially significant things happened today, which I don’t want to blog about. So I shan’t blog about it.
Instead, I shall talk about oranges. Oranges are orange. Naming a fruit after a colour is kind of awesome. I wish I were so aptly named. At least, that way, I’d know who I was. You know, on a superficial level. My name means “Prayer”.
When people try on clothes that don’t suit them, it looks weird. I mean, obviously. It’s very mannequin-ish. Obviously, you have to try on different kinds of clothes till you find the ones that suit you. But what if nothing does? What if the space-y and aloof label is the only one that does, and you don’t like that? What if you force yourself into tight, professional looking Prada shoes with high heels? Because that‘s what you want to be… I mean, wear. Even if your foot gets sore and it’s really hard.
Even if you look like a fool in Prada heels.
If you like something, shouldn’t you be- I mean, wear- it?