on the brink of my 21st birthday (or, how to interpret a myspace-esque self-portrait)

less than one hour until the apocalypse known as my 21st birthday, and i want to remember how i feel in this very moment (for i will never be on the brink of 21 again).

what i was obviously thinking in the fractioned second it took to take this picture:

the 21st year of my life shall mark the beginning of the era henceforth known as 'the emo years' (woe, indeed...)

the holy daze hath blanched my complexion...

feeling more self-conscious than usual about my facial proportions, i decided to crop half my visage from the picture, only to provide the Beatles poster as a frame of reference, to which one might remark, 'hark! what a prodigious forehead!' foiled again! blast!

i'm looking somewhat bloodshot and dry.

progressively creepy, and increasingly close.

this is your face on aderol.

i've replaced Paul in the resurrected Beatles. and i'm grateful (if not a little stunned) for the honour.

i'm just as shocked and crestfallen as you should be to learn that Sufjan is gay.

"i am the most great female hypnotist of the world!"


in summary: i am only slightly more indifferent than usual.


seesons greatings.
-stephan!e