The Melancholy Discontent of My Little Life

god i hate how aesthetic-obsessed we have become. i’m not talking about cottagecore or dark academia or any of the other -cores, i’m talking about everything being so glossy and pretty and perfect and smooth and one-liner hot takes and feel-good own-the-conservatives progressivism and Top 10 Company Tweets We Laughed At and ring lights and young vloggers with pastel-perfect colour-corrected lives and carefully curated messy title cards and perfect montages being called “photo dumps” and bookstagrams or booktoks or bookblrs who buy every book they read, not a library edition in sight and “that girl” and this is how you age when you’re unproblematic and glow ups and “clean” “inclusive” beauty and earth tones and minimalism and filming random people without their consent and definition of the self through consumption of goods and ggrgehwrgehrgehrgehrgehrrerg

Feeling this. I am very black and white with my aesthetic aspirations, and they change often. Maybe it’s my BPD, maybe I’m just a paper-doll … or maybe I should STFU and get back to my schooling cuz none of this shit matters … until it DOES. And that’s problematic AF.

i needed to watch this iconic piece of media today so i hunted it down

So my daughter just showed this to me and now I’m going to host an industrialish dance party and play this in the middle of Funker Vogt, Suicide Commando and Covenant. NO ONE WILL BE ALLOWED TO HOLD PURSES AND STAND AGAINST A WALL OR HIDE UNDER THE FURNITURE. YOU WILL DANCE. oh yes. you will.