you think oscar wilde’s gucci floral suit wearing angel ass spent his last gay breath making a witty remark about the wallpaper so that we could all live like a bunch of repressed 16th century puritans? are those glisteningly fresh rose petals going to throw themselves all over your scarlet chaise lounge and fake fur duvet? is that first edition of albert camus you bought at a thrift shop in paris going to lovingly read itself? y'all are really out there saying god gave us the ability to order cinnamon cappuccinos and buy herringbone tweed blazers and recite ovid to our friends only so we could not do those things? as it is with all paths in life, so long as you’re self-aware and not bothering or hurting anyone, you go ahead and be as pretentious as you want! it’s so much fun!!
