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come back to every girly sleepover you ever had, take a seat, cosy up, flick thru all your favourite horror movies, pretend you’re not half gay and let’s talk hot guys on the wall.


there could be no greater horror than womanhood.

this is what is represented truly in every knife-wielding masked murderer, loss of virginity,

feminist self-sacrifice, prom on fire, garage door catflap, nightmare killer, demonic poltergeist, haunted doll, organ harvesting cult, may queen crown, dead boyfriend,

creepy phone call, unbelieving husband, cheating prince, abortion law, axed-down door, floppy-haired sadboy, missing best friend, upside-down son, coming out, old-man-boyfriend, multiversal children or dead lover.


these things are scary alone, but in a way for women that differs to standard fears:

growing up is scary, because all death is scary. but rather, for young women, puberty's

end spells a new onslaught of terror, in the form of wifery, motherhood, sagging sexuality,

and unnattainable freedoms.

There is always a greater woman to aspire to be.

Which begs the age old question of feminine infatuation:

Do I want to be her, or do I want to be with her?


you can litter my walls, my television, my books, my internet, my films, my life with

boyfriendish men to swoon over and i will. but i would only worship a woman. 

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