by ty

there is ultimately something insanely appealing about the opposite aesthetic; the sense of indignant self-assurance, the lulling comfort of pressed shirts cuffed endearingly at its tip, the notion of always coming first and yet giving in, the sense of being so undoubtedly right

regardless of how wrong it should feel with mismatched sizes, hurried steps and flashes and

reminders of how: there is ultimately something so wrong with us.