what does this
say to you?
the way you
a lot about your
what does this
say to you?
the way you
a lot about your
I’ve decided that i should be as prepared for death as i can be (no, I’m not terminally I’ll, but i think about death a lot)
you should read this i don’t know if it’s any good, but i googled the quote above and this book came up, i read like two sentences but it sounds good to me.
death is something we can all relate too, it sucks but it’s how it has to be. you prepare to live with school or work, but that shit gets boring eventually, and lets get real by preparing to die you live to the fullest you get to do your bucket list (everyone has one, stfu).
So one of the things on my list is:
Make a capsule of me. I’m going to write letters so that when i die my peoples can read them and laugh at my handwriting, I’m going to record my voice, so they can never claim to forget it,( putting that isht on the internet.) and of course I’m going to take a shit load of selfies.
The shocking thing about the girls was how nearly normal they seemed when their mother let them out for the one and only date of their lives. Twenty years on, their enigmatic personalities are embalmed in the memories of the boys who worshiped them and who now recall their shared adolescence. – goodreads.com
Disclaimer: I feel that this book deserves a lengthy review, but this isn’t a review. I encourage you to read the book all the same.
May contain some spoilers.
This story invoked a sadness in me when i was reading it, but it wasn’t the usual feels I would experience this was different, it was like hearing one of your friends relatives died, leaving you with a deflated “oh”.
The virgin suicides is different to other books I’ve read that surround the issue of suicide, they all in some way gave the perspective of of the main character. What they liked what they loathed, why they did it, and in some ways there was always a chance that they would do it, wouldn’t die. and reading the virgin suicides, I had that same hope even though I knew they would all be dead by the end of the book.
A hopeless hope, right until the very end when Lux sat in that chair waiting, I so wanted it to happen for them to be okay to get away from their mother that I believed they were. Maybe it was me, but maybe it was the excellent Jeffrey Eugenides.
This was a slow read for me though, took me four days from when I read the first page to finish the entire book one of those days I didn’t even read it. It did captivate me like I expected it to.
Through the first person plural narrative, I took on the character of one of the boys, and of course I was just as oblivious to what was really going on with the Lisbon sisters. However something that nagged at me throughout the whole book and even now I week after I finished.
Why didn’t the boys just talk to them? if they were so infatuated with them surely they would have made more of an effort. I know I would have no matter how shy I was or awkward the interaction. because it would have been worth it.
I feel that the Lisbon girls suicides could have been prevented, I kind of angry about it. why didn’t anybody call social services when they never left the house, those neighbours, like seriously what the fuck?
You give me this picture of a close community but, you’re trying to tell me there were no straight up nosey people that wanted to see what was going on?
Why didn’t the boys try an rescue the girls sooner, none of them were brave enough or wild, or drunk?
Do not lie to me!
- Honestly though they could have been saved, I just know it. Those fucking boys I swear!
They made these girls mysterious and fantastical (saw this when I googled if it were based on a true story). Because what they’re girls? they go through their trash, but can’t be persistent in their advances.
And now I feel that if I were in the Lisbon girls position, I would definitely contemplate suicide matricide if that’s what it came to, just so my sisters could be free.
Eugenides is genius because I’m always going to have these questions:
Did they even try to run? Why couldn’t they get away?
Was this their only way out?
all my words unwritten
all my sentences half spoken
all my -
unfinished unspoken unwritten
I’m crying now
this is all I have
to give you
To the bottom of the abyss
That is my journey that is my quest
Only when I reach the true bottom
Can I start building.
Only then I can climb and reach for the top
Only then can I breathe
For the first time
In a while.
Breaking down, it happens and to be honest and truthful it’s the easiest thing to do. The destruction is made easier by foundations that were damaged and uncompleted in the first place.
I think my foundations are damaged; I can’t even comprehend what I can do to rectify it. I know that when at the brink, the edge of it all I should go to my safe place where ever that is and let it all out, this is easy enough to be said but what I struggle with is, is the letting it all out.
And I blame society for this trait, I among others may feel the need to not show our feelings or talk about them because society told us not to. Society doesn’t really promote it, instead it condemns talking about your feelings and you get called things like ‘bitch, whiney, crazy, soft’ if you do so but sometimes you just need to talk and need someone to just listen. And to be honest the fact is in my book anyone who talks about their feelings is the opposite of those names, because it takes bravery and courage to do so, to make yourself so vulnerable and go against instincts to keep it all in.
By keeping it all in you’re just going to make it worse and I can imagine two outcomes of it:
Like a volcano you hold it in until it’s too much and eventually explode, projectile vomit everywhere but once it’s over it’s over and your fine it really is like vomiting, you’ll feel right as rain afterwards, still it’s damaging in itself it’s slow so you won’t notice until the damage is done. Like acid eroding your teeth, until your sweet smile has completely deteriorated.
Like a fizzy drink you hold it all in and eventually it will stay in and fizzle down until you are flat, no sparkle or fizz. You’d be void of emotion. You’d be a boss of giving no shits. It’s something that I stumbled upon recently. Something that I call The Calm. Sounds great right nothing would bug you anymore… except it’s not great it was something I had never felt before and the only thing I could compare ti t to would be in “The Vampire Diaries” when a vampire turns off their emotions and humanity. If you haven’t seen that show you don’t need to the writing isn’t spectacular.
Think of this calm as the calm after the storm, after the rage, sadness and pain, comes the calm. It’s nothing familiar, it’s strange and daunting and unfriendly.
The first is the less of two evils, but it’s still evil. So please write a letter, or email make a phone call got for coffee. And talk and maybe even listen.
It’s time that we all change and make something beautiful.
God always answers
sometimes the answer is
all I want is a yes,
I hear a string of No’s
I am fallen.
I am down for the count.
I am defeated.
Please tell me
I must lie
with every step that I take.
the end is near
but the story on going .
Please tell me why
why I feel like a failure and
why when I breathe
it feels like a waste
like something bitter
but there’s no taste
Please tell me why
I’m a contradiction
why you say it’s okay
but others tell me it’s not
Please tell me why he
had to die
and why she stays with him
and why I feel a tortured soul
and why he’s like that
and why we can’t be like them
why can’t it be the way that it is
why I feel that I need to change it
to save it to save them
and why above all else
am I full of doubt
Can I do it?