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GIRL, INTERRUPTED (BOOK)

majorly relatable sentence

@absolutely

Apr 10, 2025

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WHEN I SAY THAT WE ARE ALL TEEN GIRLS

by Olivia Gatwood what I mean is that when my grandmother called to ask why I didn’t respond to her letter, all I heard was, Why didn’t you text me back? Why don’t you love me? And how can I talk about my grandmother without also mentioning that if everyone is a teen girl, then so are the birds, their soaring cliques, their squawking throats, and the sea, of course, the sea, its moody push and pull, the way we drill into it, fill it with our trash, take and take and take from it and still it holds us each time we walk into it. What is more teen girl than not being loved but wanting it so badly that you accept the smallest crumbs and call yourself full; what is more teen girl than my father’s favorite wrench, its eternal loyalty and willingness to loosen the most stubborn of bolts; what is more teen girl than my mother’s chewed nail beds, than the whine of the floorboards in her  house? What is more teen girl than my dog, Jack, whose bark is shrill and unnecessary, who has never once stopped a burglar or heeled on command but sometimes when I laugh, his tail wags so hard it thumps against the wall, sometimes it sounds like a heartbeat, sometimes I yell at him for talking too much, for his messy room, sometimes I put him in pink, striped polos and I think he feels pretty, I think he likes to feel pretty, I think Jack is a teen girl. and the mountains, oh, the mountains, what teen girls they are, those colossal show-offs, and the moon, glittering and distant and dictating all of our emotions. My lover’s tender but heavy breath while she sleeps is a teen girl, how it holds me and keeps me awake all at once, how I sometimes wish to silence it, until she turns her body and the room goes quiet and suddenly I want it back. Imagine the teen girls gone from our world, and how quickly we would beg for their return, how grateful would we be then for their loud  enthusiasm and ability to make a crop top out of anything. Even the men who laugh their condescending laughs when a teen girl faints at the sight of her favorite pop star, even those men are teen girls, the way they want so badly to be so big and important and worshipped by someone. Pluto, the teen girl, and her rejection from the popular universe, and my father, a teen girl, who insists he doesn’t believe in horoscopes but wants me to tell him about the best traits of a Scorpio, I tell him, We are all just teen girls, and my father, having raised me, recounts the time he  found the box of love notes and condom wrappers I  hid in my closet, all of the bloody sheets, the missing  socks, the radio blaring over my pitchy sobs, the time I was certain I would die of heartbreak and in a moment was in love with a small, new boy, and of course there are the teen girls, the real teen girls, huddled on the subway after school, limbs draped over each other’s shoulders bones knocking, an awkward wind chime and all of the commuters, who plug in their  headphones to mute the giggle, silence the gaggle and squeak, not knowing where they learned to do this, to roll their eyes and turn up the music, not knowing where they learned this palpable rage, not knowing the teen girls are our most distinguished professors, who teach us to bury the burst until we close our bedroom doors, and then cry with blood in the neck, foot through the door, face in the pillow, the teen girls who teach us to scream.

@stinkylittleman27

Jul 2, 2024

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Unironically talking like this

Respectfully, I’ve got to hand it to Blake Lively’s room temperature IQ ass she really has a hamfistedly algorithmically generated way with words. Every time I see the way she expresses herself to the world I kind of admire it. Like the way she insists on not using a stylist and dressing herself while stubbornly eschewing or being blissfully unaware of any style conventions, much like a proud toddler. The way she just says whatever thoughts miraculously roll through her wasteland of a head as a tumbleweed rolls across an empty dusty Main Street in the old west. Everyone says they want the unearned confidence of a mediocre straight white man but I want the easy confidence of a beautiful simple marble-mouthed mediocre hot woman like Blake Lively. I don’t really like her but bless her on her journey

@taterhole

Feb 13, 2025

Top Recs from @taterhole

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Starting over

“Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one's courage.” — Anaïs Nin This is uncharacteristically raw and personal, even for me, and pretty heavy! I know many of you have seen me posting through it and I feel safe to talk about it openly now that I’ve safely landed at the start of my new life. It’s honestly even a little bit embarrassing but I think it’s important to share. I’ve never publicly mentioned it on here, but I have a husband; as of Friday, we’d have been together for 11 years, and we’ve been married for 3 years as of 2/22. I realize now that I wanted to explore what I looked like outside of my relationship with him because I had lost that. This is why PI.FYI has been so meaningful to me as a space to express myself and connect with people—to rediscover my voice. I had been living a lie this entire time, to others but worst of all to myself. He’s been verbally and emotionally abusive, physically but without touching me, to the point that every day I spent with him I was in danger. I’ve been shrinking myself and walking on eggshells to avoid making him insecure and provoking his casual put-downs and fits of rage, while hanging on for dear life to the threads of good I could see. I’ve wanted so badly to leave, more than anything, but I felt like there was no way out and that this was just something I would need to endure indefinitely—but someone who is so very dear to me helped me see that I have wings to fly, not by acting as my savior but by reminding me of my own power. The emotional safety they built and the gentle care they showed me made me feel like I could open up to them. With their encouragement I was brave enough to tell the truth to my friends, my family, my boss, and they have received me with warm, loving and open arms and rallied to support and protect me. The financial and  logistical aspects were the most intimidating to me and it’s going to be tough for a while but I’m going to be better than okay! Now I’m opening up to you. This isn’t the only abuse I’ve suffered in my life, and my old therapist told me she believed it was my mission to share my strength and light with others to inspire them and show them that change is possible. I hope that by sharing this, I can reach even just one person who is going through something similar and show that they are not alone, and they are not weak. People with certain backgrounds may be more vulnerable to abuse, but it can happen to anyone. It thrives in darkness, shame, and isolation—and breaking that silence is the first step toward freedom. Leaving is the scariest thing I have ever done but I have so many angels around me, and I am endlessly grateful. Thank you for being here with me 💌

@taterhole

Mar 16, 2025

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Never changing

My dad teases me about how when I was a little kid, my favorite thing to do when I was on the landline phone with somebody—be it a relative or one of my best friends—was to breathlessly describe the things that were in my bedroom so that they could have a mental picture of everything I loved and chose to surround myself with, and where I sat at that moment in time. Perfectly Imperfect reminds me of that so thanks for always listening and for sharing with me too 💌

@taterhole

Feb 23, 2025

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Finally Quitting the job that you hate

Schedule sent my resignation email for the morning, effective immediately ✅💅

@taterhole

Feb 27, 2025