ineffit: (stiles)
 Maybe I did or maybe I didn't, but I will never know for sure. 

See, my sister and I we do this thing where we get extremely bored and just go out and buy things to any store we can find; the closest one to home is Walgreens, and the irony of this is that you can find whatever the shit you want there: dog food? Yup; clothes? Sure thing; condoms? Duh; food? Is that even a question? 
So yeah, we go to Walgreens and buy Doritos at 10:00 pm on a Thursday and is nobody's business. 

This time, though, was memorable because of the fact that it was winter, I was extremely bad dressed, we were buying something I don't even remember, and this beautiful girl walks in, wearing a nice coat, kitty knee socks, short skirt, pink high heels, and I froze on the spot.
No way, I tell myself. No fucking way. There are pretty girls dressing like that these days, come on, you and your fucking wishful thinking. Right. So. No way. Then she fucking walks into the kids aisle to grab a teddy bear and a fucking coloring book. And crayons. I'll be damned. 

When I found out about this side of the human nature, one of the most interesting creatures I found weren't exactly the masochists; why not? Well, pain is a pretty common thing, and a lot of people enjoy it even if they don't know, in small quantities maybe, but they do; you can build your pain resistance and there you go. No, one of the most interesting were the pets and the baby girls. Oh, man, the baby girls. 

You see, a lot of people think these creatures are sick, trying to create a pedophile-friendly environment or some shit. They're fucking wrong. These people embrace that state of life we all are forced to leave behind at some point. They don't want to fuck their parent either, they're fucking looking for comfort and safety.
These people are fucking cool. They go back to themselves and explore, and do whatever it is that makes them happy, because you don't necessarily have to leave that part of yourself that made life easy and carefree. And there are other people who find them just incredible and precious and want to take care of them, and it doesn't mean they want to fuck a kid. Alright.

But then again, is kind of really rude to ask someone you don't know if they like to call their partner "Daddy", and play with toys, and make of coloring some sort of foreplay. One does not just ask someone if they're a baby girl, okay, you just don't. Or maybe I would had if my sister hadn't been there, she's open minded but not that much.

I wish I had, though; it would had been pretty cool if she would had said 'yes' and not hit me with her shoe on the face. 
Wishful thinking.  
ineffit: (sammydean)
I finally watched The Great Gatsby. The new one with DiCaprio and Spiderman, not the old one. And there was a reason I hadn't watched it, I knew there was a reason. I mean, I'm not DiCaprio's biggest fan, I like him just fine, like any other person with eyes and ears and access to movies who can see the damn man has talent, and we all cursed all those times they didn't give him his Oscar; you see, I didn't exactly mean not to watch the movie, but it wasn't my priority either, it was just a movie that I thought, well, hey, I should watch that one, what with it being a classic and DiCaprio being there and all that.
So, it was in the back of my mind. Watch the Gatsby. But there was a reason I hadn't.

When we get bored, my sister and I go to the store, or the mall, or the bookstore, or the library, and we buy things that we really don't need but we kind of really want to have just to say we have something.
And so we were at the store looking at the movies, and I wanted to buy Mad Max, because is that kind of thing you just ought to have and I needed to watch it again (and again and again and again in the near future until I get sick and I can't make out faces anymore) and while doing that she saw this movie. The Great Gatsby. And she had watched it before, at school, because she's at high school and they always make you watch this kind of thing when you're there. She liked the damn movie, and she was set I had to watch it. We bought it. Along Mad Max, Spotlight, The Lorax and The Danish girl. And I shouldn't have damn it, I shouldn't have.

You see, we watched The Danish girl, because Trans cinematography and all, and then we waited and waited and didn't watch anything else until just two nights ago. And I hate my life so much, what the fuck.

There was a reason I hadn't watched The Great Gatsby, and it wasn't quite that I'm not a big fan of old movies, or remakes, or remakes of really old movies, or that that Spiderman Guy would never stop being the Spiderman Guy, or that I haven't read the book (which if there was a reason I hadn't even watched the book, where did you think I had read the book); I knew it was going to be one of those damn stories, that somehow change your fucking life forever and you just want to kill someone or cry forever, or kill someone while you cry forever, but at the same time, it leaves you so raw, open and exposed, you just... go to sleep with a sad smile in your face and hope you won't remember in the morning. That kind of story. The kind that makes you feel it was real and really a part of your life.

Or maybe is that I have emotional problems and my brain is fucked up.

Now I have the feeling I need to read the book because maybe there's something missing. Maybe I'm missing something.
And it is that kind of movie that leaves you upset because you can't be fucking upset with any of them. It's quite fucked up.

We have deep conversations at night when we can't sleep or we're thinking too much. You see, I don't like romance. If you ask me if I want to watch something, the last thing in my list is going to be romance, specially if it's sappy romance; I can do sometimes with romcoms, and sad romances, but my mood has to be very special, I have to be really bored or really, really want to watch the movie for a different reason. Romance is not my go to kind of thing, there has to be something special about the romance, something different, really different, or cliché, or just, something. And I'm not gonna say The Great Gatsby is a romance, because it could be, but I'm not gonna say it because it also could not be. But it sure as hell makes you think about love. 

I won't stop thinking for the next hundred years how Tom never loved Daisy like she loved him, and how Daisy never loved Gatsby like she loved Tom. What Daisy felt for Gatsby was a dream, and what Gatsby felt for Daisy was a fantasy, and Nick is the only one that matters. 
And I don't want to talk about love but after all, after everything, I really wonder if it's truly this hard to find someone who can respect you as a person. Because that is my definition of love. Everything else is madness. 

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