love betty’s diary entries bc she’ll pull out the most poetic sentence and then end it with ‘and im scared. im scared of everything. this fake company my boss told me to make. all this financial fraud that he tells me is legal. also im in love with my boss and honestly, im scared of that too’.
ive rewatching ysblf but ive been doing out of order, which is why all my posts look deranged. but the one episode i cannot rewatch is the bad makeover. i cannot do it. its too painful. i watched it once in its original airing with my family and it was horrible. they were so mean to her for literally no reason. and the fact that every ysblf remake has the bad makeover included (?!?!?!!) but then does everything else different is so?????????? fucked up?!??!?!!?. it’s so intentionally mean to do that over and over again. every betty is babygirl and she doesn’t deserve that.
unfortunately if you are an old friend of mine i will always care about you no matter what even if we haven’t seen each other in forever because i still remember what you were like 7 years ago and i still remember how it felt to be young with you and i still have a lot of love for you in the back of my mind
❝I secretly adored the way he was. All the stuff he got away with. I wasn’t brave enough to throw caution to the wind and behave like John did, though there were definitely times when I would have liked to. So John’s behaviour was a vicarious thrill for me. He was dangerous. He attracted attention, in ways that I would never have dared to. There was something about him. He was irresistible. He was a rebel. He could get the attention of everyone in the room without doing anything at all.
The entire time we were together, there was never a moment when the mere thought of him didn’t set off the butterflies in my tummy, when I didn’t feel all gasp-y and hot-cheeked. John literally took my breath away. It was as if I didn’t have a choice: I had to be with him, and that was that. There’s something incredibly sexy about the power that one person can wield over another, don’t you think? It’s that rush of adrenalin when you see them or even just think about them, I suppose. That confusing mix of confidence and vulnerability in a person is a truly intoxicating thing. It was not so much that he believed he was better than everyone else, but that he really didn’t care either way. John could have had any girl he wanted. He could have had any of us, but he wanted me. In truth, there isn’t anything that I wouldn’t have done for him. I still felt that way long after we were divorced. Despite all the blood that had flowed under the bridge. John was complicated. More screwed-up than most people ever knew. I wanted more than anything for him to be happy. I don’t believe he ever was, and that kills me.❞
does anyone else get like…..a weirdly dark feeling whenever they listen to magical mystery tour (the album)?
Thank you for bringing this up bc it does feel strange to me, in a weirdly inexplicable way, like playing an off-key note one half step down from the normal, opening a slightly dark dimension, creeping in like a strange, surreal fog. But also oddly it doesn’t feel entirely bad to me?? Like it feels creepy but at the same time comforting, that same feeling I get when standing on an empty street at dusk feeling like the last person alive and everything is strange. Especially in songs like Fool on the Hill, Flying, Blue Jay Way and Strawberry fields. This whole album feels like a liminal space to me, creeping over the boundary of reality and into something beyond, but maybe that’s a good thing. Lonely yet peaceful, a certain forlorn, nostalgic beauty, capturing those moments of childhood when you felt you could almost touch something…else, other. If anyone hasn’t listened to this extended edition of Flying I really recommend it. It really captures that trippy, creepy yet oddly peaceful feeling the rest of the album gives.
Basically what I’m saying is this album is a portal into a slightly off-kilter, strange dimension but it doesn’t feel evil, just, well, magical and mysterious.
