Got My Own Chanel.

Got My Own Chanel.

Sunday, December 19, 2010


I can feel the chip on my left tooth.
I can see the bruise on my thigh, the freckles across my nose, the wild mane that always manages to get itself out of the ponytail,
and the cuts on my feet from getting too excited about the rock pools at Collin's Bay.
I don't want any of these to be different. Then how would I remember the stories that got them here?

Imperfection is memories.

It's the night you got your corona bottle knocked at a year 12 party.
The afternoon you ventured rock jumping from a loony height.
The day you forgot the spf 30.
The time you cared more about looking at limpets than the state of your feet.
And the decision to cut off all your locks without thinking about the repercussions of a grown-out mullet 6 months later.

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