"Skillet on the stove it's such a temptation,
maybe I'll be the lucky one that doesn't get burned.
What the fuck was I thinking?"
Another rainy Sunday afternoon. As I was out boots hunting, I had this song on repeat and my inner tween scrambled to get herself heard to influence my fashion sense in this shopping expedition. Needless to say, I'll be twirling around in funky goth dresses to compliment my white Doc Martens (boots acquired sucessfully, yay me!) for the next two weeks.
It's such a superficial yet inherent part of a person's life, that phase when you're all twisted in knots trying to deny the emotions creeping in your system for that someone you've come to care about immensely. The good ol' face-palm-first-then-giddy-lovestruck-next stage because it suddenly hit you like a sucker punch feeling when you're in an uncertain place on an undefined flirtationship.
Oh to be young again! I can't help but gravitate towards the braided hair, short yet subtle skirts and the combat boots. The allure of the image is too potent for me to resist so I'm giving this win to my inner tween with a whooping high five and a resounding butt slap. Regardless of whatever emotional high I'm riding on, I'm ready to kick ass and flip the world a bird if they mess with my mood. Teenage angst inspired so bring it on bitches! Rock on! \m/
