Woke up at dawn again.
Looking out my window.
Into the fog.
Thinking,
Hoping.
I’m not the only one left.
Sending broadcasts into the void.
Praying for @replies.
SOS.
Signs of Steez.
Nothing.
On some Kal-El shit.
The last son of Tumblr.
After it happened everything changed.
With no one on the streets, there was no street style.
No photos meant no page views.
Ads were dropped.
Labels stopped sending free shit.
Style bloggers started to get desperate.
And things got ugly,
Real fucking fast.
The Swedes were the first to go.
Cut down on their daily bike rides.
They never saw it coming.
Ran into TT on a street corner in Firenze.
Didn’t recognize him.
He was still wearing last season.
A man hunted by fear.
He took a shot of my shoes.
Disappeared screaming down a cobblestone alley.
Never saw that photo posted.
Don’t think he made it.
Found a glimmer of hope buried in a sig of an abandoned thread.
The Kiss and Gumby had holed themselves up in the Liquor Store.
Self-sustaining, they could post their own fits for days.
That was two months ago.
I know they must be running out of pieces.
If only the J. Crizzy had done more collabos.
It’s hard to keep my spirits up.
Scared to leave the house.
I’ve been careful.
Thought I was safe.
But this is it.
They found me.
Surrounding my house and setting up for a full on lookbook.
Just a thin pane of glass between me and pure chaos.
This is it.
The final stand.
The final look.
Trying to stay strong.
Look down at my wrist.
What Would Junya Do.
Oh yeah.
That’s right.
Steez fuck ‘em till they can’t take no more.
If you get this message.
Please re-tweet.
Let the world know there is still hope.
Steez can find a way.
Stabler
for 7 år siden
