Iggy Insanity

About me:

Iggy Insanity: Architect of your envy, misanthropic majesty, patron saint of injury, and guilty on many and all counts.

I am your worst fear, the escape you crave but can’t admit. I am the thorn in your side, the salt in your wound, and the reality check you never wanted.

I am the high-heeled harbinger of chaos, filling your world with twisted beauty and brutal honesty. Haters, beware—there’s more to me than meets the eye...

I embody the post-truth era, where reality and illusion blend seamlessly, like concealer that hides nightmares, and the line between love and hate blurs.

I am a walking contradiction. A proud member of the Makeup Mafia, I don’t have time for the mundane, the pedestrian, the average.

To the haters, doubters, and naysayers: keep watching, keep talking, and keep hating. Your negativity is my soundtrack, your envy my applause.

Love me or hate me… It’s still an obsession.

...Because unlike every other bıtch on this spacehey.com hype, I prefer being under the floor with the worms while you all crash around in the ten inch stilletos you don't need, tripping all over one another's bullshıt that drags as far behind you as your fake faces...

I like being solitary and refined. I like people passing over me when my face isn't on. Unlike all the angstmonger kiddie-hoppers on SpaceHey, I mean it when I say I could care less and that I am only here to scream my opinions, and I could really give a shıt less if it matters to you.

*They* care because they need the hits, the friends, the name that rides currents. They need to be part of the radiowaves that bring anyone else to attention. They need people to turn their heads when they say the same thing everyone else does in the same voice with the same face and in the same $60 pants.

You didn't buy those clothes at a fuckıng thrift shop. Your idea of vintage is a So So Happy hoodie you bought for 400$ and tax, Parading in Prada when you're so fucking scene and XXXTOTHECORE that you'll damn the system and bıtch when your little sister's pants rip at the seam because your αss does not fit, UGLY SCENE BOY.

Who I'd like to meet:

Jesus Christ