Captivated

reading a lot of classic lit is like being friends with a bunch of straight girls, loving and supporting them, but watching in quiet horror as they make horrible decisions, both romantically and otherwise. like…. juliet sweetheart i fully support your quest for the montague dick, but let’s make sure romeo has the message before we fake-kill ourselves, okay? messengers can be shitty in this day and age. and cathy, look. you’re kind of the worst, but you still deserve better than heathcliff. get your associate’s, be nicer to edgar, and move out of that town, ok? and don’t die and leave your daughter in the clutches of your evil ex while you’re at it. narrator of rebecca… first off bitch we’ve been friends for years, tell me your name… second, PLEASE LEARN SOME SELF-LOVE AND SELF-CARE!!!!! YOU ARE A VIBRANT CREATURE KNOWN AS WOMAN, YOU DO NOT NEED A MAN TO BE WORTHWHILE!!!! and as for jane eyre…….. bitch……… i mean don’t get me wrong i love all of you and would die for any of you, any time, and please believe i say this with the utmost affection, but ALL OF YOU BITCHES ARE SO EXHAUSTING. OH MY GOD.