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#the tragedy of girlhood
m1ssnovember · 22 days
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ghibli-ing · 3 months
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tragic, honestly. newsletter out now 🤍
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idk if i have stated in so many words before but kinda weird for people not to care about the brown men of the story on account of them being men
like most people did to javi irl what the yellowjackets did in the show lol, dismissed always, no more than the little kid, he was already dead
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lottiemilfews · 1 year
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bunny-ear-lovergirl · 7 months
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Bows and scars
My gender is a broken doll
Girlhood, summer time
Holy water, best church clothes
Ribbons stained with blood, reflected by smashed church windows
Alcohol bottles, cigarettes from the road
Abandoned americana
The tragedy in girlhood, the loss of youth
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persephonediary · 2 years
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Girl, aging girl, is haunted by own nothingness & devours views from windows (stories, movies, overheard talk & sights in the street, pictures in newspapers, etc.) with continuous feeling she is ‘just about’, miraculously, to come into her own – her own life.
Sylvia Plath
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weirdgirlraging · 1 year
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sandmark · 3 months
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tag post.
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inkskinned · 3 months
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yesterday while feverish i wrote about how boats can moor next to each other like pigeons, cooing with the gentle rap of water against their hull. you once said that that the way i see things - birds in the water, feathers in marina paint - was "childish and naive." you said i'd been misdiagnosed - "it can't all be adhd. you might be just kind of stupid and lazy."
i still do certain things like how you taught me - turn the pillow case inside out before putting it on. drive defensively. hate myself entirely.
the prompt for this poem is "mahler's fifth." i wish it wasn't, but mahler's fifth was our song. it ended up in my book. every person that knows your name has promised me they'll give you one swift rabbit punch, right to the face. dean read the book and showed up on my front porch, drenched in sweat from running the 8 miles at 4 in the morning. he was shaking. pacifist and gentle - he works with children - i'd never seen him furious. a punch isn't going to do it, he said, and then said i'm sorry. i had to come to see if you were okay.
mahler's fifth was mine first, like my girlhood. i like the way each movement piles onto the next movement, each instrument bleeding into the next. i like the horn version the best. before i met you, i danced to it on grass still-wet from sprinklers.
later you would tell me that the way you heard it was somehow better. you understood something in it that i couldn't quite wrap my fingers into. once, on our anniversary, you asked the classical music radio station to play it for us. we missed hearing it because we were fighting. one of the things people get wrong about abuse is that sometimes victims are, like, brutally aware of the stupidity of our situation. what do you mean that you thought i wasn't good enough for you? you? you're just... nothing.
sometimes people can pull the poetry out of your life. i watched my words become clothesline, and then thin out into kite twine. i watched you chew through every good syllable of me. so many good songs and places and moments were ruined. i am glad you didn't like most of my music - less to tie back to you.
but still mahler's fifth. the music swells, and i am 21 and throwing up in a bathroom on my birthday. a woman i will later refer to as lesbian jesus runs a cool hand down my back, her perfect pantsuit starch-pressed. she told me to leave you. she said - and this is true, and not an invention of rhyme or fantasy - i'm you from the future.
i am 22, and i got home from an award ceremony, and i remember you telling me - you act so proud of yourself when you're actually so fucking embarrassing. i took you to disney world. you took my virginity. i gave up visiting spain for a week with my family - i instead choose you, to spend the time just-cuddling. you called it "our fuck week." the music swells. it probably should have been a red flag that for about 3 years - i just gave up on crying. my grandfather died and you said nothing. my uncle died and you ghosted me for 3 weeks. you said i need to protect myself from your ongoing tragedy.
every so often i come back to the memory of one of our last afternoons in person. i had just told you that i wasn't going to law school, despite the free ride - i was going to join a creative writing program. master's in fine arts. i was going to finally do it - i was going to follow my dreams. this blog was already internet-famous. however reluctantly, i would occasionally refer to myself as a poet. i got into umass amherst's writing program for fiction authors. it is one of the the top 5 programs in the country.
wait are you seriously considering actually attending that? dumbfounded, you turned completely towards me in your seat. for the 3rd time in our relationship, you almost crashed the car. you actually want to be a writer?
the first time i went viral, it was for a poem i wrote about you:
he wants to say i love you but keeps it to goodnight because love will take some falling and she's afraid of heights.
every time i see that, i want to throw up. you weren't in love with me, you were in love with the control you had over me. a little truth though: i am afraid of heights. you caught a rabbitgirl and skinned her alive.
mahler's fifth still makes me sick.
give me that back. give me back music. give me back everything i had before you. give me back fearlessness. give me back bravery. give me back a scarless body.
give me back what you took from me.
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kuroochako · 1 year
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actually i identify as “a bad liar with a savior complex”, “argumentative antithetical dream girl”, “just a girl in her room trying to forgive herself”, “my mother’s child”, “monster on the hill, too big to hang out”, “mirrorball”, “the archer”, “no one sees when you lose when you’re playing solitaire”, “my poor parents’ teenage daughter”,
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m1ssnovember · 1 month
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🥀
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metanarrates · 2 months
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ugh anthy is so good. nearly every single other story I've seen about a Mysterious and Tragic teenage girl has failed in some way either because the writer forgot to give the character complexity and an internal life, or because the tragic things in her life were far too aestheticized to have real teeth. anthy succeeds as a character largely because the whole story is dedicated to deconstructing an aestheticized view of her & her suffering, and also showing how that aestheticized view dehumanizes her and denies her agency. she is not a harmless victim or a beautifully agonized one - she is a teenage girl who is reacting in realistic, complex ways to a lifetime of crushing systemic abuses. and similarly, every teenage girl around her is also reacting in complex ways to their own suffering under patriarchy.
depiction of sad teenage girls often posit their pain as a natural phenomenon, something that is just intrinsic to girlhood. adding a layer of mystique onto them just further serves to obfuscate the sources of teen girl suffering. instead, teenage girl pain becomes palatable. consumable, even. #aesthetic. these depictions are unthreatening because, by their nature, they cannot depict societal issues in a way that would demand a restructuring of society. we can posit a familial tragedy but not a tragedy of the family structure. we can lament a beautifully mentally ill sufferer but not the systems of wellness and community that failed her. et cetera. nothing can ever hold up an uncomfortable mirror, only a flattering one.
revolutionary girl utena directly says that that idea is bullshit and that its teenage girls are suffering as a direct result of entrenched systematic oppression. and in that uncomfortable honesty, it's able to be WAY more authentically hopeful with its sad teenage girls. anthy is able to finally walk out of the society that trapped her and live freely of the image that was constructed around her! she can be a flawed human girl who is still going to be happy with her girlfriend! her victimhood is not eternal and does not mean she can never find happiness! A TEEN GIRL DOES NOT HAVE TO STAY IN A COFFIN IN ORDER TO DESERVE COMPASSION!!!!
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withdenim · 4 months
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I don’t know how to convey how soul crushingly hopeless the message of “endure” was without turning into a beast on main but like. Yeah. /POS
Especially bc Lloyd is such a girlhood metaphor and it was just him and pixal and nya. The tragedy of their grief is only made so much worse by the fact they have to just wait for something to happen to them. Does that make sense. Am I crazy.
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gremloblin · 11 months
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Anyway I love when things are narratively unsatisfying. I love when people are characterized well and interesting and die for stupid reasons without finishing their arc. I love tragedy I love when none of it mattered I love surviving a plane crash and finally making someone see how fucked up the thing they did is and then falling off the toilet cliff with the shit bucket I love friendship ending pregnancy that results in a stillbirth I love unkillable teenage lesbians who get cancer in their forties I love surviving a plane crash but not surviving girlhood I love tragedy
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kittenplath · 3 months
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nobody talks about the tragedy of going from girlhood to womanhood
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chadlesbianjasontodd · 2 months
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[translation] "Pear Blossom" by Yoshiya Nobuko
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Although the fiction of "Japan's first lesbian author" Yoshiya Nobuko was (and remains) hugely popular, of her entire body of work only one short story has ever been published in English translation, and no (other) fan translations appear to exist --- despite the enormous influence of her work on the predominant aesthetics and themes of shoujo manga. The beautiful flowery style and melodrama so famously attached to shoujo manga are thanks in large part to Yoshiya, and I'm very happy to be able to share one of her stories with you now!
"Pear Blossom" is a sparse and vivid short story from Yoshiya's early collection Hanamonogatari ("Flower tales"), a book noted for its use of beautiful imagery and its emphasis on the importance of romantic relationships between girls.
Read it here!
(nota bene, "Pear Blossom" is in the style of romantic, 'narcissistic' girlhood tragedy for which Yoshiya is most famous; approach accordingly. I've also included a page of notes on Yoshiya and her early lesbian fiction.)
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