Photos by Erika
Blazer & tattered jeans = Thrifted
Shirt = Divisoria
Flats = Parisian
Canvas Bag = Forever 21
A couple of years back, I received an anonymous mail. Ok, a "hatemail" to be blunt. It voiced out how he/she/it/they dreaded me as a person entirely, poking the right spots with such accuracy & precision. They despised the way I look - how ridiculously skinny I am (or was), how disgusted they were of my tattoos. They hated the way I speak, that they cannot contain sneering whenever they heard me. They mocked my thrifting habits, and taunted the way I dress.
I was enraged initially, of course. I wanted to scream - at whoever it was' face. I wanted oh-so-badly to lash out. My heart twitched, I almost let out a cry. I kept on wondering what was it that I did wrong? Is my fashion sense really THAT kind of bazonkers? Was stepping out of my (fashion) comfort zone another decision gone bad? I was wringing my brain for answers. It got to me big time that I was thisclose to un-believing myself. I was offended, outraged even. I had to fight off the strong urge to type a 3-page response to whoever it was, because it seemed like the most logical thing to do at the time..
But I didn't.
I chose mature instead of logical.
I chose to re-believe in me instead of logical.
And simply because of the realization that ITJUST. WASN'T. WORTHIT. :)