Hauntingthethoughts - Hiding In Plain Sight

i need to eat a food. none of the food in the house is The Right Food. what is the right food? only god knows. and we're not on speaking terms right now.

i'd love you if and only if you were a worm. bitch

there’s something really special about the way that, during barbie’s breakdown, gloria comforts her with (loosely paraphrased), “it kills me that someone as beautiful and smart as you feels this way”

and the point, of course, is that stereotypical barbie and stereotypical ken have both suffered under the constraints of their titles, that neither have ever had any room for self-actualisation as dolls, but barbie is surrounded by powerful women. doctors, physicists, presidents, judges. amazing women who—unlike barbie—hold massive amounts of power and influence in barbieland outside of just being barbie. stereotypical barbie goes through her arc asking questions and believing that everyone else around her is more qualified, more intelligent, more capable, more-whatever than her, despite the surface thesis of her story being that she has to confront the inequalities still faced by girls and women in the real world. even in barbieland, this utopia for women, barbie herself does not feel on par with her other aspects

because even the narrator pauses the action for a second to acknowledge that, yeah, margot robbie is fucking gorgeous, and any situation where she’s saying she isn’t pretty is objectively wrong. but the narrator doesn’t stop to say, “hey, stereotypical barbie, you don’t have to be called anything special to also be intelligent and creative and worthwhile,” because despite the utopian ideals of feminine power, stereotypical barbie is still regarded as the blonde bimbo who has to rely on others to tell her what to do, even if it’s meant kindly

but gloria, who she’s deeply connected to, whose emotions and fears barbie has taken on, who feels inadequate and small in her own life, looks at stereotypical barbie—before barbie became the doctor or president or construction worker or anything other than a pretty girl in a swimsuit—and says, “how brilliant you are, already, all on your own, without any special titles at all,” knowing that the changes that she needs to go through at the end of her story aren’t to make her smarter or more capable, but simply for her to find her own place

i don't want to be dead, i just want to be gone

Salman Toor (Pakistani, 1983), Immigrant Gathering, 2016. Oil on canvas, 122 x 81.5 cm.

i am not my mother and i am not my father but a third worse thing

will there ever be a love more violent than the one between siblings?? i know father's love are harsh, and mother's love are softness wrapped with sharp edges, but siblings? siblings' love is brutal

her eyes were the sickly green of the sky before a tornado, and to his horror he discovered she could throw cows around just as easily

you need to understand i'm undeserving of your love, i'm sorry i can't let myself ever feel completely loved by you

diagnosed with woman in her twenties disease