Why wear it? The world is hard and cruel, and this creamy-sweet, silky-smooth cup o' custard is not... or so it's fronting. For all I know, it might be a stone-cold bitch underneath all that satin. But I'm willing to be talked into anything.
What does it do? It weaves a hypnotic tapestry of white flowers and spun sugar and thereby perpetuates the illusion that the universe may contain a modicum of mercy. I buy the lie lock, stock, and barrel-- and yet, somewhere in the back of my mind, I know it cannot last.
How do I feel? Today, I'd say "convinced". Tomorrow, I might say "deceived". Try me again on Wednesday, and I might tell you, "Willing to be taken for one more ride."