dress: Forever 21; bag: Esprit; socks: Kohl's; shoes: Born
All my life I've lived in this cottage. It's pretty cute, lots of fun trinkets and cozy places to sit. This cottage has everything I need to get by--food, water, clothing, shelter, so for the longest time, I thought that anything outside the cottage was unnecessary poppycock. Useless malarkey. Mumbo jumbo, if you will.
For eighteen years I've lived alone in my little cottage, seeing others occasionally, but for the most part, remaining in solitude. Hence, my thoughts and feelings rarely meet other people. Instead, they flow onto a page or get released in the safety of my cottage, where only I can hear them.
The front door of my cottage is light pink and made of the sturdiest wood I could find in the forest. Although it is quaint and unassuming, it keeps people and their dangers out. I've never left the door open before.
"We can't always see what others don't want us to."
from All the Bright Places by Jennifer Niven
I think I have trust issues. That's gotta be the reason that I've never let anyone in before, right?
Over the years I've had many close friends, but I've never completely let down my guard before. The worst part is that I get upset that none of my friends understand me. But how can they? I never put myself out there.
Maybe the thing is that I need to be propelled. I need someone to incessantly ask me "what's wrong? what's wrong? what's wrong?" before I can finally work up the courage to say what's on my mind. But I know it's unfair for me to expect someone to baby me, to constantly check in with me. I am old enough to say "hey, I need to go pee" without someone asking if I need a bathroom break.
Speaking of which...
Okay, I'm back. Where was I? Oh right.
Perhaps I struggle to speak because I'm a listener. Many of my friends can attest that I am great for sitting, nodding, and giving advice when they need to vent. But when it's my turn to talk, I never say anything meaningful. I can literally think of a time when I started describing the tree in front of me when I could have very well been opening up and letting a friend understand me. It's not like I have nothing to say! But for some reason, whenever given the chance to speak my mind, I will blow it on something shallow and pointless.
So what do I do with all the thinks and feels swirling around inside of me? How do I let them out?
I talk to myself. I blog, yeah. I journal. I doodle. But mostly, I stare into space and have a nice one on one with me, myself, and I.
For the most part, it works. I get to vent and no one sees me in a vulnerable state. I talk myself through all the reasonable advice that I'd give any one of my friends. Yes, it's a little crazy, but it's pretty functional.
The problem occurs when information overflows. After several venting sessions pile on top of normal, everyday thoughts, my brain kind of clogs. If I had to describe it, I'd say it's like I have this river that needs to flow, but a bunch of rocks are damming the way and only trickles of water are getting by. 'Tis my brain.
One day I'll prop open the door to my cottage. My cottage will probably be less stuffy, too. It's something I need to work towards. Hopefully I get there before it's too late.
Not much to say about this outfit because it is rather simple, so I'll keep things brief. The structure is pretty obviously based on a schoolgirl's uniform: Peter Pan collar, neck tie, neat square purse, knee socks. However, I wanted to juxtapose the typically innocent vibe associated with the look by sticking to dark colors. Overall, the outfit is reminiscent of autumn (a little seasonally premature, but adorable nonetheless).