Last year, in a post a lot of you liked, I talked about why I like to wear baggy clothes:
Well, this post will make them stand for something scary and depressing [OMG I hate writing so much. I’m so bad with words I don’t even know why I still use them to say things. But the drawings are way too weird and personal to stand on their own. *sigh*]
Sure, wearing clothes twice my size helps me hide while also reminding myself how hard it so to like be a kid with other kids. But all that’s different now. I have friends…(I guess?)
I am at the precipice, at the edge of the cliff, so to say- the catcher in the rye catching himself with nothing but the wind that blows through the rye. It is all me. Nothing more, nothing less.
The apron has a long (stretchy-looking) strap that you can really push out with your tiny limbs. Which makes it incredibly appropriate for my purposes.
The fact that it is found in the kitchen and used right next to the hellfire that burns in space blue is just a happy coincidence.
The kitchen is the most dangreous place in the house. Knives and fire. You can really do some dumb stuff in there lol. HAHA
I just thought it would be cool to bring together the idea of BIG clothes, which I’ve already talked about, with the danger of the kitchen, of being ignored by the adult cooking- THE adult; the space between you and grown-ups so clear and hot. How um…mythical
No more ooh it’s an expression of my lack of belonginess and loneliness and reminder of heroes. Big clothes will from now on be like the apron. And I shall push against the strap and point to the sky.
It HAS to fit. I HAVE to move on. I need to grow up? No. I just need to grow. I can dissipate also. That’s alright. I just need to stretch enough to fill the apron.
I shall not bake in this heat.