Um… so, uh… yeah: LOVE THIS. For you know, reasons and stuff.
At the same time: I hate it, omfg sooo much.
For once my objections have fuck all to do with curmudgeonly hyper-criticality. I object because I am devastated.
I have been trying and failing to make a self-portrait that is alarmingly similar to this; really, this and my idea two might as well be fraternally twinned.
But to top a sundae of injury with rainbow sprinkles of insult: this is just flat-out so, SO much better than any of my fumbled false starts and artless misfires.
And although I have no intention of giving up–I’m exactly the sort of fool for whom the prospect of defying impossibility actually serves as compelling motivation.
Of course, motivation alone doesn’t address the fact that I am not getting any younger and I will never be ripped with six-pack abs.
But my phenomenal lack of physical attraction isn’t even the most profound hurdle. This was almost certainly taken by another person. I only have and will likely only ever have–sadly: recourse to the self-timer.