the beautiful madness of girlhood
it's so hard yet i wouldn't trade it for anything. i'll never stop making and remaking myself
(this will be a ramble, not heavily edited. maybe short and maybe longโฆtopic kinda not organized but it makes sense in my headโฆjust bear with me, loves <3)
iโve been watching a lot of young adult tv shows and movies lately, stuff from my youth especially (lmao - as if iโm no longer youthful. iโm only 21 but it certainly has been an aging time, has it not?).
the likes of ella enchanted, daria, sisterhood of the traveling pants, the virgin suicides, what a girl wants, and more have been on repeat these past few weeks. a mix of nostalgia, yearning, jealousy, and self acceptance.
these girls (genuinely carefree, unnecessarily and aesthetically jaded and aloof, souls feigning asleep yet wide awake, taking in the world for what it was yet simultaneously willing it to be whatever they wanted it) made me jealous, even though i had many of their attributes inside of me. i loved how all the girls of sisterhood of the traveling pants had their own unique, distinct traits yet somehow morphed to be one beautiful, angsty mess of youthful wisdom. ella of frellโs bravery & witty, nubile mastery. daria AND quinn morgendorfferโs responses to societal pressures, specifically those of conformity and popularity - and how i both wanted to march to the best of my own drum like daria and perpetually have a flock of admirers, platonic and sexual/romantic alike, like quinn.
i wanted to be *those* girls so bad; a perfect amalgamation of all those girls. looking back itโs almost cringeworthy, but itโs a necessary reflection and iโm even grateful for that time. even more so now that aesthetics are everywhere & people want to have their pick.
at the core is a sense of deep, adolescent NEED. the yearning and longing i spoke of earlier. the NEED to not only be young and beautiful, but the NEED to have other people show and tell you that youโre young and beautiful. โi want to be the black lux lisbonโ because i want my moment in the sun, my venus moment of coming off a school bus or some boyโs beat up sedan, sun rays perfectly glittering up my skin, hair moving flawlessly with the wind in almost slow motion as people flock to me like bees to honey, in a jealousy and lust-filled trance.
whatโs the most important thing? i never really learned and i donโt think many of us girls did, us girls who want a seat at some table, us girls who want to belong, who want to be in the fray, in the flock. whatโs the most important- is it the best to be yourself, or is it the best to change yourself into who and what you want to be? the central experience us girls face is that โyourselfโ is often foreign, slipping away from our fingers, something we couldnโt find even if we tried looking it up in a dictionary. โyourselfโ is often a lofty, faraway fantasy tinted in pink that smells like vanilla perfume.
maybe being yourself can be making yourself, or just being, or both. i wouldnโt trade it for the world though. such is the experience of being a girl; being both at the mercy of the world and on top of the pedestal it not only built for you but also intends to eventually knock you down off of.