I told my therapist that I always had heated arguments with my mom because she doesn’t allow me to wear shorts thinking shorts are inappropriate where I live. My therapist told that my mom was sorta right because if I wear short clothing id draw too much negative attention and people will think that in spite of being a girl from a respectable family I’m someone of questionable character and I was like wtf? I wanna wear shorts because it’s fucking hot outside and Im sweating like a pig !Why should I care about the opinion of people who don’t even know my name !? I told her that people should stop stereotyping and that my dress doesn’t equal my character to which with a pained smile she replied that “ It’s just the way of the world hun” She even said that she avoided talking to her closest acquaintances on the street if they wore too short dresses that made them look “vulgar”!!!!!! Finally I made her talk to my mom and I came to a compromise that I’d wear long pants if any outsider came to our home and I’m fuming over this.
The point of this long af ramble is that it’s fucking 42°C outside and I have to suffer due to my clothes whereas all the boys in my neighbourhood are smartly walking around in the dumbest and weirdest shorts and no one’s batting an eyelash!! WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH PEOPLE ?????????I CAN’T SHOW MY LEGS ????? IS HAVING ARMS AND LEGS ABNORMAL FOR A GIRL?????OR SOME ASSHOLE JUST CAN’T CONTROL HIMSELF AND WILL CUM IN THE PANTS ?????WHY SHOULD I CARE WHAT SOME INSIGNIFICANT MORTALS THINK ABOUT ME?? I am wearing clothes for comfort not for every person in the town ! And I AM MORE THAN MY CLOTHES I AM DEFINED BY WHAT I ACTUALLY AM AND NOT BY FUCKING WHAT I WEAR YOU HEAR ME ???????????????? DON’T JUDGE A GIRL BY HER COVER
I recorded this cover of 102 by the 1975 on the last day of 2016. Today, on the first day of 2017, I am letting it loose in the tumblr world, hoping it somehow gets passed around enough that it someday finds its way to you when you’re scrolling through your feed. If that day never comes, then so be it, I tried, I really did. However, if that day does come, and you are you and you are reading this, then this is for you:
When I hear this song, I think of falling asleep with you in a little apartment in San Francisco. I think of regarding you through sleepy morning eyes from your passenger side. I think of the stick figures you drew of us on my foggy sunroof on the 405. I think of your kiss. Your presence. Your loveliness. You. In retrospect, I’ve realized this song was the background music to all of the little instances in which I was so stupidly unaware that I was falling in love with you. To sing this now, knowing how our story has devolved from these beautiful aforementioned moments to weeks of empty phone static and heartache, to manic drives and sleepless nights, to chaotic helplessness and confusion, is harder than I could ever begin to articulate to you. But for me, this song will always be you, so here I am sending this out like a little dove through cyberspace.
I’m sorry things got ruined. I’m sorry we are beginning the process of becoming strangers so prematurely. I’m sorry I couldn’t be perfect. I’m sorry you felt you had to disappear. I really am. But the thing is, after everything, I’m singing this now because there is a piece of me still holding on to hope as I embark upon this new year and board this flight to the other side of the continent. Hope that this song finds you in a happy place. Hope that when you hear it, it will make you think of these things too - the little snippets of memories we made together that cannot be tainted by our mistakes, all of the good we shared - and you will smile. Hope that it reminds you of how much you truly meant to me, and how much you still do. Hope that maybe one day - when we’re older, when things aren’t so complicated, when there is a revolution around the sun that is more fair to us than this one was - I could still be the girl you fall asleep to this song with.
Indefinitely, a girl out there who, after everything, thinks of you fondly, lovingly, often
|| when I knock at one hundred and two and I see your pajamas i can’t stop smiling at you ||