Sewings brings out the expletives

I have a small thorn in my side.
It's been there for months.

Beneath my desk lies one of my favorite shirts.
It's a brown designer dress shirt which I inherited from my Dad.
Something expensive and Italian.
It's old and doesn't fit me properly.
The arms are too short and the shoulders are too wide.

Despite this, it's been one of my favorite shirts.
A couple months ago, I wore it thread bear and one of the sleeves finally gave way.

It just tore a new seam line up the expanse of the right sleeve so that the end of the sleeve dangled uselessly.

It's been lieing there for months.
Everytime I see it, I promise myself that I'm going to fix it.
I even went out and bought some new needles and thread.

Yet, it's been laying there for months all the less.

Until today.
Today, I fixed that fucking shirt and put it in the closet.
Tommorow, I'm wearing that fucking shirt no matter how tattered it looks.
I love that fucking shirt.

Fuck all you shirt naysayers.

Truely,
~Kigs