Nasty Gal

Nasty Gal. Shophia Amoruso. Film. Vintage.

Nasty Gal is what I want to be. It is where my soul wanders at night releasing, channeling, letting  go of pent up anger mercilessly. It is that safe place where hard rock verging on metal music intertwines its limbs with the fragile and wavering feelings of uncertainty. It is who I am.

I would not necessarily describe myself as nasty to be around, but I stand up for what I believe. I show selfishness, but that is in order to survive. I am loud, I shout and yell to make myself be heard – to not let my voice be drowned in a crumbling society; however, I am not passive aggressive nor point blank violent at all.  Nasty Gal is a title, a simple name, a cover up which provides protection, comfort and security.

It is not my name to take or to keep, but I can borrow it and identify with it. I is a song, a film, a person. It can be perceived as beautiful and brave at times but at other times, it can be misunderstood for arrogance and overconfidence. In reality, it is a delicate rose.

Ambition is the fuel that feeds the consuming fire in Nasty Gal. The everglowing spitting splints of fire ignite the wilderness that governs in one’s heart, like the warm musky air that envelops your senses as soon as you pull closer to the crackling fireplace in the middle of your house. Ambition glints and grins and giggles at you, coaxing you closer – leading you by the nose and if you are not careful and meticulous, it will lead you blindly into despair.

Anger and determination deter the ambiguity of ambition. Anger opens the eyes to reality and determination helps to succumb the everlasting obstacles.

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