Torn

I have found the likes of the beginning a distinct fascination with both punning and and their similarly sartorially charismatic counterpart: the ripped jean. Hence the title " Torn", which in turn provokes the obvious message in which my denim is, well, torn, but also proposes a more insightful nature of  my being in which I intend to analyze my psyche in this...perplexity shall we call it.

To begin, I have always sought power in such things that seem to display qualities of their defiance of mankind's conformities, it seems that destroyed (insert clothing item here) encompasses that idea as it effectively mimics a consciousnesses of the repetitive " I don't really give a bleeps". It is solely this indifference which moistens my finger tips in single-handedly (pun) obliterating my  babysitters fund or the likes of my unknowing fathers. In particular a certain pair ,currently on sale at asos is becoming more keen in this  gesture as the weeks monotonously pass on by. 

However, this desire to exposes my raw,ashen skin to the world, an idea that posed unfathomable in my early adolescence,seems to display a similar rebellion in the becoming of my youth. While I perceive my actions as an active form of defiance to the tradition of modestly covered knee caps and well tailored denim, am I conversely a living stereotype in which I reflect my rebellious qualities in my choice of shredded clothing? What's next, shall I commence shopping at Hot Topic and similarly redefine a blouse as a strategically hemmed brassiere?!

American Eagle Outfitters striped sweater, thrifted burgundy shirt, Forever 21 plaid skirt, Dollhouse jeans and Steve Madden boots.

I ponder this thought in a maniacal state in the wee hours of the day... in the mean time therapy seems most apt by my own hands in which do-it-yo-self is presented as inevitable.