"It's like I can feel myself leaving my body. It's like it's making me someone else."
when I was 13, I wrote a short story explicitly about suicide for class (we were told to use "imagery words" to convey the story rather than dialogue), and it was paraded in front of my multi-grade english class by my teacher to be gawked at and even mocked. "weird girl" suddenly wasn't enough to saddle me with; no, now I was an attraction…
"What happened upstairs?"
I have an intense, deep-seated fear of that moment when a VHS tape reaches its end and shuts off. as a kid, I could hear the tape rewinding, but was met with either static or a blank blue screen. and, in that emptiness, my mind tried to fill in the blanks--thought it saw and heard things that weren't there, or anxiously expected something to suddenly appear without warning. the same would happen with my closet, with dark…
This review may contain spoilers. I can handle the truth.
dreamlike and ethereal, with no answers to be found amidst the deadly allure of Hanging Rock. with enough distance, anyone could think that they are untouchable, that nature couldn't possibly hurt them, and yet we're drawn towards the danger all the same. how dare it spirit us away, like fools, like children, when we should be its master?
much in the same way that The Virgin Suicides breaks my heart because of the lens it puts on the girls at…
“I’M IN MY WEDDING DRESS!”
“YES, YOU LOOK LOVELY!”
THERE IS—AND I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH—AN AFTERLIFE FOR TOYS
