On 'Breaking Boxes"

The task of getting dressed and be so daunting sometimes, I may narrowly discover hate within the practice. I mean, all this active pursuit of self-discovery shit can tire you out especially when provided by means of accouterments stylizing your most recent mood. Creativity is truly a sporadic tendency that seems to come and go as it pleases, which ultimately ensues the reprise of a running outfit, fit for a track athlete, or say, a stay at home mother.

Unfortunately, the previous statements act as a converse to the pure insanity my current wears propose but it's late, and I seem to be in the mood to confuse you, as subjucated with misplaced anecdotes and intrinsic ramblings. Nevertheless, I feel as if the strife at hand lie in my challenging of our societally enforced drive to "Think outside the box" i.e. be creative, a policy our American heritage  has not always encourgaed. Buttt, but, but, but, tis preoceeds to the questionig of "where are the figemented boundries of the box?", "are they dervied of a durable material–meaning can it be broken without causing physical damage to my skeletal fixation?", "whose box is it?", "does my corporate future condone of these destructive 'box breaking" practices?" And the questions, of all... questions: "do I even want to step outside the box???"

Within conformity lies comfort, no literally, if you shift and extract a few letters it actually spells comfort, no joke. And trust believe I get it, no doubt I've been there. One word: high school.  Characterized as such of an odd sort of lapse of time betwixt child and adulthood, in which both conformity and it's converse are equally encouraged, yet equally admonished. Don't we all in some way live for those moments where it all seems to fit, where everything you wear, say, and act, perfectly aligns with the status quot we each have journeyed to subconsciously attain. Yet again, don't we sometimes live for those moments in which our individuality is most public, and most importantly appeased by our appetite to quietly 'Dare to be Different'. Ya, feel me?


**excuse my grammar por favor**

H&M jacket, vintage tee, Tar-gjae (misspelled fanciness for Target) leather shorts and thrifted shoesies

 (toddler for shoes)

Call me Konfuscious or not a all.