I'm so tired!
If random was ever a person, it would be me. I try and try to streamline my thoughts and turn my life into a linear version of the mess that it is right now, only to fail over and over again. I am grown enough to know that this is how everyone’s life is and we are all living a messier version of the life we imagined and anticipated. I know it, I really do but there is this uncontrollable desire to perfect every aspect of my life that I cannot shake away. Somehow my answer to dealing with the uncontrollable nature of my life and world is to try to exert even more control. Make it make sense.
I started this space to document my thoughts on everything Fashion but I am constantly trying to reconcile with the possibility that perhaps Fashion is not something I am passionate about anymore. Sure, I can speak Prada and I can identify most designers simply through their signature silhouette or embellishment but I don’t know if that warrants calling myself a Fashion obsessed person that my teenage self once fashioned myself as. I like Fashion but I have grown to understand that there are lots of other things I like just as much as, if not more, than Fashion.
I thought this page would be predominantly about Fashion criticism and while I certainly can write such pieces, I have grown to realise that the effort required to mould a story angle of a specific standard, is simply not worth it. Especially when the predominant audience reading the said criticism are my friends and family members, only. Also, the insecurity that creeps in after you hit publish. Like, why am I like this?
The first quarter of my year so far has been a dumpster fire, to say the least. I feel like I am reeling with the aftereffects of this whiplash from my year so far, through a symbolic concussion that suddenly has me craving hiking as a preferred activity. And not just any normal hiking experience but this deep burning desire to climb the highest point of the Australian continent/country a.k.a Mount Kosciuszko. Like, who even is this person?
There is an undiagnosed mental illness in me somewhere and it overrides every single facet of my life. In a different lifetime, perhaps I could get a diagnosis and neatly compartmentalise my thoughts which would then, neatly reflect in my work here. But I am just not that person, just not that girl. “I’m sorry. I can’t. Don’t hate me.”