why do I keep on passing out?
Why does it have to be when I'm working for vogue?
Why do I wake up in a sea of luxurious clothing at the Beverly Hills Four Seasons; to a Gay my lifting my legs (elevating my blood levels or something) in the air , while I'm outfitted, in a wardrobe worth ten years of rent? While the seamstress fans me with her paperwork? And the intererns force feed me sugar water?
honestly.
How come I still remain to be the clumsiest person I know?
Why do I keep on collapsing like a lousy game of Jenga?
storys to be told later. I am exhausted.
1 comment:
good lord. are there photos of you past out in couture? would love to see those.
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