TAKE A WALK… V.Woolf… nah that’s not really who I am. Practical Magic.
She said, “No more,” and this other little girl cast a spell on herself so she’d never fall in love by inventing a guy who could never ever possibly exist. She’d fallen in love before, or so she thought, and the feminist in her can’t let go of the preceding conundrum, and now she’s forgotten that all she wanted to say was that deep down, on some level, she still felt invulnerable to said “love,” an odd foreign thing she scoffed at others for being so weak for deluding themselves into giving into it by positing that they “needed” it. Even in this moment “need” is not a thing she feels so in touch with, and in a way I think that’s healthy.
In walks-or-she’s trying to recall-well to be honest she still is struggling to integrate this whole idea that it’s the “real deal” in her head, whatever the fuck that means. Still, she doesn’t like leaving things on a sour note. Is that hopeless romanticism? It frightens her, but something about her makes her the kind of being who remembers that she can survive anything…
The song “Cake By The Ocean” (DNCE) comes to mind and she finds herself giving into her curiosity in how it made her feel earlier today, rather than worrying about the importance of deconstructing “rock and roll”…. fuck it
Who could turn away from seeming… wondrous perfection? Who could turn away from something that feels like cake by the ocean whilst being a NorthEastern… self-hater… beach daydreamer… dreamer