Ashley Opheim
Bright and Stupid and See-Through
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I am inside Forever21
lost somewhere inside of myself thinking ‘triceratops’ every-time I see a crop top. Not what we see but how we see it matters. In exchange for pain, desire and a skirt that constantly sheds sparkles. In the change room I want to be something between a star and a flower. It seems insane that one minute you’re nothing and then you’re DNA and then you become form and then one day you are born. And then one day you are just nobody rifling through the clothes that no one else wanted in the cluttered H&M sale section in the basement of a mall in a sick sad world. Feeling far away from your self. Feeling vapid and hungry. Clarity in the sense of transparence. Clarity in the sense of silence. Clarity in the sense of mesh polyester. I buy a flower pattern transparent top for $9.95 plus tax regular price and smile at the sales girl who doesn’t really smile back or notice me at all. She asks me for my email without giving me an option to say no but I say ‘No, thanks’ anyways. And I accidentally tear the seam of the shirt when I get home when trying to tear the washing instructions tag off of it. I feel guilty about purchasing the top. Clarity in the sense of a pattern. Clarity in the space between glitter. We are the drowsy children of the abyss why are we so bright and stupid and see-through? |