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imagitory · 5 years

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D-Views: The Hunchback of Notre Dame

Bonjour, mes amies! Welcome, bienvenue, to another installment of D-Views, my written review series for films produced or inspired by the Walt Disney company! For more reviews for films like Enchanted, Star Wars Episode III, and Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, feel free to consult my “Disney reviews” tag, and please, if you enjoy this review or any of the others, please consider liking and reblogging! I look forward to writing more of these in the future for films like Wreck-It Ralph and Halloweentown, as well as Non-Disney films like Charlotte’s Web.

I recently put out a poll suggesting three Disney Renaissance films for possible review subjects, and although The Little Mermaid won that poll, this film ended up not far behind. (Thank you, @schifty-al and @mygeekcorner for your votes!) It’s one of my personal favorite Disney films of all time...The Hunchback of Notre Dame!

Victor Hugo’s classic novel Notre Dame du Paris, called The Hunchback of Notre Dame in English, seems like a very odd inspiration for a Disney animated family film, and that’s because...yeah, it is! When the Disney animators first brought Hunchback to the table, they were less inspired by the original Hugo novel glamorizing the architecture of Notre Dame cathedral, and more inspired by a graphic novel adaptation of the story, which was likewise much more influenced by the 1939 Hollywood film adaptation. Because of the historical context that 1939 adaptation was made in (premiering at Cannes during the rise of the Third Reich), themes of social justice were added to a story that originally was about how the “edifice” can outlast the flaws and sins of mankind. The “social justice” element is something that Hugo interestingly put more in his follow-up to Notre Dame du Paris, the epic brick book Les Miserables, but has since been similarly tied in the public consciousness to The Hunchback of Notre Dame, despite not existing in the original book.

The project was already an odd choice for Disney to take on thanks to the darkness of the book, but the political themes also were unique for a Disney picture as well. It clearly was a more “adult” endeavor, even though thanks to the success of previous projects like Aladdin and The Lion King, there were studio mandates demanding more comic relief, and even the marketing team was reluctant to advertise Hunchback as anything other than a family film. Rather than showing the artistry and darker scenes, the marketing almost entirely focused on the Feast of Fools and the gargoyles, highlighting the “Ugly Duckling” aspect added to the story and downplaying the more adult themes. In the end, it’s likely thanks to those poor marketing choices and the inconsistent tone of the picture that this movie failed to find its audience on first run. It only earned $21 million worldwide, compared to Pocahontas’s $29 million and The Little Mermaid’s $84 million, with mixed critical and audience reaction. Although it was nominated for an Academy Award for its music and won several others, it was noticeably less successful than other installments in the Disney Renaissance, and even now, Disney often doesn’t give Hunchback that much attention. Like Quasimodo, the film has been sort of locked up in its own tower...but now, today, I aim to bring The Hunchback of Notre Dame out of the shadows and give it the appreciation it deserves.

Our film begins in complete darkness, accompanied by resounding church bells and the amazing vocalizations of the English Opera Company, and from the very beginning, I’m just enveloped by the embrace of Alan Menken and Stephen Schwartz’s unbelievable score. Choral music in general has always been something special in my family. My mum and dad were in choirs a lot of their lives: they even first met when they joined the San Diego Master Chorale in the 80′s. Choral music remains one of my mother’s greatest loves and passions, and when I saw Hunchback, it made the choral music my parents loved so much, which focused around a faith I hadn’t been raised with and didn’t believe in, that bit more accessible to me as a child. Mum, who studied Latin in college, went on to teach me about all of the chants and phrases Menken and Schwartz added to each song so that I could more appropriately sing along. It remains one of those Disney soundtracks that cemented our close bond, and I’ll always treasure being able to see the La Jolla Playhouse production of The Hunchback of Notre Dame with my mum and getting to hear the amazing choir and instruments live.

The Bells of Notre Dame, as an opening number, cannot be matched in how it introduces us all to the story, characters, themes, and tone of the piece. In just a few minutes, the music and lyrics perfectly showcases our setting, the theme of what makes a man, the atmosphere of fear and injustice, our villain, and our hero. Menken and Schwartz previously worked together on Pocahontas, but Hunchback in my opinion easily outstrips their previous collaboration. The use of church bells of all sizes to convey the solemnity, mystery, and grandeur of the cathedral at the center of the proceedings, and the clever use of Latin phrases -- it’s just unbelievable! As one example, in the sequence where Frollo (a judge in this version, as opposed to the Archdeacon) chases Quasimodo’s mother up to the stairs of Notre Dame and she pounds on the door, crying for help, the choir sings “Quantus tremor est futurus quando Judex est venturus,” which means, “What trembling is to be when the Judge comes.” And sure enough, the line comes to a horrible, horrified halt when Judge Frollo snatches the woman’s child away and throws her to the ground.

After one of the most epic musical introductions in a Disney film, we meet our sweet, gentle hero, Quasimodo, voiced by Tom Hulce, who is just such a ray of sunshine. Although I loved hearing Michael Arden as Quasimodo on stage, Tom Hulce will always be my Quasimodo. When I was a teenager, I went through a horrible “hating the world” phase where I only ever saw pain and suffering and felt not only powerless to make anything better, but worthless as well. During that time, I turned my back on a lot of the things that had brought me joy, feeling almost unable to enjoy them anymore. One of the very few exceptions, however, was this movie and especially the character of Quasimodo. When I was at my darkest points, Quasimodo never failed to bring me some light, not because he was particularly funny, but because for all of the misery in his circumstances, he never faltered in being gentle, creative, and kind. Looking back on how I’d been, I wish I’d had just a shred of Quasimodo’s grace back then. I wish I hadn’t allowed myself to fall into despair and resentment. Since I can’t go back, however, I keep Quasimodo in my mind sometimes whenever I’m going through something difficult. He’s kind of become a guardian angel of sorts to me, reminding me that my life is a precious gift and I shouldn’t take anything for granted. And really, I couldn’t do that if not for Tom Hulce and Quasimodo’s supervising animator, James Baxter. I truly am grateful to both of them for giving me a character that even now can be a symbol of everything I wish I could be.

Unfortunately along with Quasimodo, we also meet the gargoyles, Hugo, Victor, and Laverne. As a kid, I actually liked the gargoyles all right, but as an adult...yeah, they really break the mood. Badly. The worst offender is easily Hugo, which is a shame because I like Jason Alexander as a performer, but he just goes way too over-the-top-obnoxious. It would admittedly not be as bad if it were clear that the gargoyles were all in Quasimodo’s head, but Djali sees Hugo come to life at one point and they later help Quasimodo fight off the guards. I greatly prefer the way the gargoyles are handled in the stage production, where all of the saintly statues have their own voices that nonetheless reflect what Quasimodo is thinking and when Quasimodo hits his lowest point before Esmeralda’s execution, he forcefully banishes them out of his head.

Even though the comic relief is handled poorly, I certainly cannot say the same for the villain. Judge Claude Frollo is easily one of the most evil villains in Disney history. Tony Jay’s vocal performance is just chillingly resonant, commanding your attention and making you subconsciously shrink in on yourself whenever he speaks. It makes for a despicable, cold, cruel man -- the antithesis of a father, the true embodiment of a monster. Frollo is often compared to Mother Gothel from Tangled in how they both lie to, control, and emotionally abuse their charges (Quasimodo and Rapunzel, respectively), but I personally find Frollo so much worse than Gothel, because he not only cuts Quasimodo off from everyone, but he indoctrinates a gentle, kind soul like Quasimodo in his racism and intolerance against those different from him -- including Quasimodo’s own people, the Romani. Mother Gothel hoards Rapunzel away like a dragon hoarding treasure -- Frollo treats Quasimodo like a burden, beating into him that no one else would want him and that Frollo was such a “good man” to take him in. It’s just vile.

And now we come to my single favorite Disney song of all time -- Quasimodo’s aria, Out There. From the time I was little, this song spoke to me like few others did. Growing up, I was an only child with a huge imagination surrounded almost entirely by adults and who had a lot of difficulty relating to kids my age. I often liked being on my own, but it didn’t change how I often felt different and detached from the people around me, and as I got older, that feeling only increased. I moved a lot in my childhood, making it difficult for me to plant roots, and I rarely followed trends or popular norms, so I constantly stayed in the fringes of the crowd, enviously looking on at those who could fit in more easily than I could. I always tried to hide my insecurities, but they were still there, and when those insecurities took hold, I would often imagine the world being a place where I could be myself, just like Quasi does. Quasimodo’s longing to be “part of them” and lamentation of people being “heedless of the gift it is to be them” has always resonated with me, and even though it’s hard for me to sing Out There without shifting octaves, my heart swells every time I hear it.

The Captain of the Guard, Phoebus, is easily the biggest liberty that Hunchback adaptations have made with the original novel. The book version of Phoebus was more like Gaston from Beauty and the Beast than how he’s portrayed here, but I frankly have no complaints. Kevin Kline is wonderfully dry and witty in the role -- he’s more than a match for Esmeralda, being brave, noble, and sarcastic with seemingly no prejudice for those different from him. And then yeah, as for Esmeralda herself...as Phoebus says later, “what a woman!” Esmeralda was one of my very favorite Disney heroines as a kid, and she still is. The character of Esmeralda is often rather saint-like in her incarnations, but here we see both the “angelic” and “demonic” sides of her -- she’s fiery, but kind; rebellious, yet noble; anti-authority, but patient; distrustful, yet loyal. In the musical adaptation, when Esmeralda is first revealed, we hear Frollo, Phoebus, and Quasimodo sing this about her --

Frollo: She dances like the Devil!

Phoebus: She dances like an angel --

Quasimodo: An angel!

Phoebus: -- but with such fire!

Frollo: Such fire!

All Three: Who is she?

This is Esmeralda’s characterization and her relationship to the three male main characters in a nutshell. Quasimodo only sees the best of Esmeralda; Frollo only sees the worst of her; and Phoebus sees her for everything she is...as a person. And this is why she ultimately chooses Phoebus, unlike in the book where she solely chooses Phoebus because of his looks.

When we reach the Palace of Justice, I’m reminded that I have yet to accent how absolutely stunning every single background is in this movie. Yes, the animation overall is wonderful, whether in the character animation or otherwise, but there are few Disney films that have more atmospheric and beautiful backgrounds than this. It serves to give the movie such a wonderful depth and makes the setting feel that much richer and deeper. Admittedly one weaker aspect of the animation is the now-slightly-outdated CG background characters. They were made by taking a handful of templates and then mixing up their clothes and colors, so as to multiply them ad infinitum and make the crowds of Paris look bigger and more colorful. Even with that, though, you do sort of have to look carefully at the background crowds to notice, as there are lots of hand-drawn characters sprinkled in in front of those CG models that help obscure their repetition and awkwardness. Those CG crowds also make the city of Paris look appropriately overcrowded and huge, so I’m glad that they used the technology even if it was still so in-progress at the time.

Even though Topsy Turvy starts off so fun and festive, however, it soon devolves into a terrible riot where Quasimodo is bound and tormented by the crowd. I admit, the transition is a little abrupt, but it still works for me, as people can be so easily swept away by mob mentality and those in power -- namely, Frollo’s guards -- sometimes flaunt their authority by putting down others. Fortunately Esmeralda is there to save Quasimodo and give Frollo a much-deserved verbal smackdown. The following scene, though, is another example of the mismatched tone, stretching out Esmeralda’s escape with a lot of comic “hijinks” that don’t really add anything to the film and kind of serve as a big time waster, especially after it abruptly cuts off and turns much more solemn and sad as Frollo silently confronts Quasimodo and Quasi returns to Notre Dame in shame.

Hunchback’s focus on religion is, in my opinion, one of the things that made producing an adaptation of Hugo’s novel such a bold decision. I’m not a religious person at all (Agnostic and proud), but it was still really meaningful to me to see both the good and bad associated with religion, represented by the Archdeacon and Frollo respectively. Frollo, along with Pharaoh Seti from The Prince of Egypt, taught me as a kid that evil is not always self-aware and, more importantly, how much more dangerous evil is when it garbs itself in godliness and righteousness. That’s a valuable lesson, regardless of your religious faith. God Help the Outcasts may invoke God’s name, but it could just as easily be a prayer to the world, or even just to you as an individual. The Christian faith preaches that we are made in God’s image...so when Esmeralda asks God to help her people, maybe she’s in truth asking you to try to be the loving God they need.

Something unique about Hunchback is the wonderful friendship that develops between Esmeralda and Quasimodo. From the time I was very little, I made friends with both boys and girls, so it was so wonderfully refreshing to see a story where a girl and a boy became such close friends and supported each other so much. Yes, admittedly, Quasimodo is romantically interested in Esmeralda, but when he sees how much she loves Phoebus, he both accepts their relationship and treasures Esmeralda’s friendship all the same. He doesn’t wallow in bitterness upon Esmeralda not choosing him; he loves her all the same as the first real friend he’s ever had. Esmeralda truly loves Quasimodo and treasures their friendship too -- her choosing Phoebus romantically is never framed as her teasing Quasimodo or leading him on; she simply loves Phoebus and Quasimodo in different ways. And that I find so unbelievably cool. I also like that in Esmeralda’s and Quasimodo’s conversation on the roof, there are some strains of the deleted song Someday in the instrumental accompanying the scene -- you can hear a R&B variation of Someday in the film’s credits, but originally it was meant to replace the more religious God Help the Outcasts, only for God Help the Outcasts to be chosen over it. I agree with the filmmakers’ decision, but I still like Someday too. Quasimodo’s helping Esmeralda and Djali escape Notre Dame by climbing down the towers also beautifully foreshadows Quasimodo’s dexterity in climbing down to save Esmeralda at the end of the film.

Quasimodo and Frollo are both enthralled with Esmeralda, but as mentioned previously, they each only see the angelic and demonic sides of her, which is best encapsulated by the dual numbers Heaven’s Light and Hellfire. Heaven’s Light is appropriately sweet and pure, but I can’t beat around the bush here: Hellfire steals the show, not just from Heaven’s Light but from all other villain songs in Disney history. The song starts with a choral chant praying for forgiveness, which then segways into Frollo’s demented, mad raving about his lust, fear, and hatred for Esmeralda. The words are almost terrifying in their level of conviction and paranoia, which then devolves into vindictive, destructive mania, framed by the mournful echoes for “mercy” from the choir.

Right after Hellfire, we get one of my favorite instrumentals on the soundtrack called Paris Burning. The choir’s bustling, dramatic cries trimmed by the tense strings and horns of the orchestra just evokes fear and horror as Frollo terrorizes Paris. Then Phoebus finally takes a stand, refusing to set fire to the miller’s house and then, after Frollo does it himself, leaping in to save the family from the flames. In the musical, this whole sequence is accompanied by the amazing musical number Esmeralda (which honestly, every fan of this movie should listen to, it’s really worth it), but the film handles it unbelievably well with only a short scene and an instrumental that sears the final “Kyrie Eleison” into the audience’s ears like a fire brand.

Sadly, after this amazing, epic sequence, we once again are subjected to tonal whiplash when we return to the bell tower and the gargoyles decide to sing Quasimodo a song to cheer him up. Although I maintain Hunchback has one of the best soundtracks ever recorded, what stops it from being flawless is this song. A Guy Like You is not an inherently bad song on its own, but when combined with the rest of the soundtrack, its melody, tone, and out-of-place pop cultural references are just ridiculously jarring. It’s like we’ve been transported into a completely different movie, one less inspired by a classic French novel and a critically acclaimed film about social justice and one more inspired by Disney hits of the day like Aladdin and later projects like Hercules. As sad as it is, it’s kind of a relief when it’s over and we’re brought back down to earth by Esmeralda carrying a close-to-death Phoebus into Quasimodo’s tower.

Frollo’s arrival after Quasimodo agrees to hide Phoebus is excellent in its suspense. We can sense Frollo’s suspicion, and all the while, we’re so worried for Phoebus hiding under the very table he and Quasimodo are sitting at. Then Frollo, who we’ve only ever seen as cold, conniving, and controlled, bursts into a rage the kind of which we’ve never seen before, and for a second, he’s a demon himself. After his rage is spent, he sets his cruelest, most terrible trap yet: using Quasimodo’s feelings for Esmeralda so that he can capture her and the rest of the Romani. And at first, Quasimodo almost doesn’t take the bait, thanks to a short-lived pang of self-pity. At first he’s bitter about his heart being broken and considers not helping Esmeralda, as there’d seemingly be no “reward” in him doing so...but the feeling is quelled in seconds by the memory of Esmeralda and how much her friendship means to him. Quasimodo’s selflessness and goodness wins out in its struggle with his more selfish instincts...and this, in the end, is what makes Quasimodo a hero in my eyes.

All right, I guess with our entrance into the Court of Miracles, I should address the elephant in the room. I’ve called Esmeralda’s people “the Romani” in this review, but throughout the entire film, the term is substituted for the admittedly-period-appropriate slur “Gypsy.” I knew nothing about the Romani culture when I first saw this film and I profess no intimate knowledge of it now, but even with that, I have to acknowledge that this movie doesn’t always showcase the Romani in the best light. Although Quasimodo’s parents, Esmeralda, and (to a degree) Clopin are given relative sympathy, the sequence in the Court of Miracles doesn’t do much to endear them to the audience. These victims of persecution are not really given the focus they deserve: we never learn much about their culture or about why they’re persecuted, and we don’t really get to see how they live their lives as ordinary people. To someone who doesn’t know anything about the Romani, I don’t think this film would be the best introduction to their culture and heritage.

Our climax is accompanied by the best instrumental track in the film, Sanctuary! Whenever I hear this piece, I have to stay completely silent, drinking in every single line and note, so as to properly absorb its brilliance. The track has accompanied a lot of my writing in the past: it’s always helped me when I was writing a powerful, emotional climax, whether through the emotion it wrought from me or just from wanting to write a new scene to the music. This entire sequence, from a musical, writing, animation, and character point of view, is I think what made Disney decide to make this film in the first place. The pacing -- the character animation of Quasimodo tearing down the pillars -- the drawn backgrounds of Notre Dame -- the camera whirling over the never-ending crowd’s heads and up onto the cathedral as Quasimodo hoists Esmeralda over his head -- this is the heart of why the movie was made and what the entire film was building up to. This resistance against injustice and the protection of our sacred, historical institutions from hatred and cruelty is what Hunchback is and should be all about. Occasionally this battle scene is inter-spliced with comic bits that once again aren’t really necessary and kind of stick out (Laverne’s Wizard of Oz reference and Hugo’s impression of a fighter plane in particular are out of place), but it doesn’t ruin anything for me. Fortunately as the climax grows darker with the arrival of Frollo and the transition from Sanctuary! into And He Shall Smite the Wicked, the gargoyles take a backseat, and we get focus where we should’ve always had it: on Quasimodo, Esmeralda, and Frollo. Thanks to his love for his friend Esmeralda and the realization of his own self-worth, Quasimodo finally stands up to Frollo and breaks free of his poisonous influence once and for all. This line of Quasi’s has always stuck with me --

“All my life you’ve taught me the world is a dark, cruel place...but now I see the only thing dark and cruel about it is people like you!”

Even now this line is just so powerful. There was a point where all I saw of the world was its cruelties and injustices...but like Quasimodo, I’ve come to see that those cruelties are not inherent to the world or even to mankind as a whole. Humans are capable of both great evil and great good, but as long as the evil people of the world are allowed to seize control and exert their toxic influence over everyone else, the world and mankind overall will never become better. Like Quasimodo, we must stand against those who’ve embraced cruelty and hatred over acceptance and love. We must protect the brighter parts of the world that evil so wishes to snuff out. It’s a moral I think has only become more relevant and important over time.

Unlike in the book and musical, Esmeralda survives, and as much as I’ve heard people try to argue Esmeralda living is not true to the spirit of the original novel, I think it really suits the story being told and really feels just for both characters. Quasimodo deserved happiness; Esmeralda deserved happiness; and most importantly, this all the more highlights how different Quasimodo is from Frollo. Frollo says to Esmeralda, “Choose me or the fire” -- basically, if he can’t have her, he doesn’t want anyone else to...but Quasimodo doesn’t think that way. He cherishes Esmeralda and her friendship without any caveats or conditions: therefore him losing Esmeralda, whether to Phoebus or to death, doesn’t prompt him to commit suicide like he did in the novel. It’s not only a more uplifting ending, but I think a lesson in the selflessness of love, even if it’s just platonic love. And because Esmeralda loves Quasimodo just as much as a friend, she leads him out into the sun, where he finds even more of the love he deserves from the city he wished so much to belong in. Quasimodo doesn’t get the girl, but that was never what he wanted in the first place: it was merely to be accepted as he was.

The Hunchback of Notre Dame was one of the most formative films of my childhood, right up there with Beauty and the Beast, The Prince of Egypt, and Anastasia, and it remains my second favorite Disney animated film of all time. With time, I’ve seen more and more of its flaws, but those flaws don’t ruin what in the end is one of the most daring, revolutionary projects Disney Animation has ever tackled. Its artistry, from the backgrounds to the character animation, is exceptional; all of its major human characters are multi-faceted, complex, and real; its themes are eternally relevant and powerful; and its score and nearly all of its songs are just through the stratosphere in their quality. Hunchback, along with Beauty and the Beast, made me fall in love with France from afar as a child, a love affair that has only become more and more intense through the years, and Quasimodo and Esmeralda even now are so close to my heart. I wish so much to be as kind and gentle as Quasimodo and as brave and noble as Esmeralda, and I can only hope that at some point, if I ever visit Disneyland Paris, I might finally meet them. The Hunchback of Notre Dame may not have gotten the appreciation it deserved when it first came to theaters, but I’ll always be happy to hear Disney fans remembering it as fondly as I do. Who knows? Maybe someday, the world will be wiser and will give this film its time in the sun at long last.

#d-views #disney reviews #the hunchback of notre dame #disney #opinion #analysis #reviews #oh boy here i go

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volume-indigo · 4 years

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a bad romance

1. I am floating. I move my head beneath the water and watch the surface shake like champagne bubbles. The water is dancing and it is peaceful, a peace I do not wish to be free of. The light that shines down on me illuminates my bathtub makes the bubbles glisten as if I were really bathing in a pool of fizzy golden nectar. I yearn to keep this peace forever, under the water where no one can find me. Where the outside world is indistinguishable from the sounds of my own thoughts. I am alone, and I have never felt more content inside this glimpse of loneliness. My bath smells of roses and chamomile. The aroma sends peace through my body as if God jarred the mixture himself. My heart starts to dance like the champagne bubbles that now break apart as I lift my head out of the water. I am grateful for the rare moments I experience with a blank mind, free of the constant battle my conscious has with itself. As the water loses its warmth and shifts into a temperature too lukewarm for my liking, I remove myself from the tub and wrap myself in one of the green and cream-colored tropical towels I picked out as “his and hers” towels for the doomed relationship that was Doug and Margot. As I wrap myself in the towel, the memory of Doug wrapping me in it and pulling me into his arms feels so real that I immediately rip it off and run naked into my bed. I lay there and let the fan make my body so cold that all I can think about is how uncomfortable I am once goosebumps start to trickle down my body. That technique works for about sixty seconds, and then his face is back in my head again. The thick head of dark hair and almond eyes that gorge into me and give the cutest wide-eyed look that ever existed. It was a look he’d always give me when he must have wanted me to fall even more in love with him than I already was. There is only one way out of this, and that is to think about the man who takes up the second half of my heart. Jimmy is familiar, he is a boyfriend and a brother all in one. No one can make me laugh, smile, or cry like he can. He is the one I have loved since before I finished puberty, he knows me completely and inside and out. He has the power to hit every nerve and ignite every crevice of me. His beauty is his hair, a golden oasis that I wish I could explore for the rest of my life. This is the deepest evil I have ever known, existing amongst two things in the world that I want so badly that it feels like a need and not being able have either one of them. Except for the mere blink in time that I did.

The sun is setting over the grass fields we used to play in once upon a time. Our preteen ghosts wander the endless green and walk right next to each other, hand in hand. Jimmy and I sit against the wall of an old handball court, looking at each other and smiling. Now we’re laughing because we can hear our oldest friends, Annette and Brad enjoying each other’s company right behind the wall that divides us. Jimmy pushes my hair from my face and pulls me in for a kiss. The familiarity of kissing a boy you’ve been kissing since you were thirteen is a comfort neither of us have ever been able to let go of these last eight years. He looks at me now with a remorseful tenderness that I do not recognize in him. He knows that our time together is over. We have completed this part of our journey, and it makes us both want to claw our way back together in cowardly nostalgia. The sense of malaise we both experience without the other’s presence is unbearable, which only pushes us further apart. Jimmy grabs my hand now and laces his fingers between mine. “I love you, Margot, so much,” I spot a tear about ready to break loose from his tear duct. “I just don’t think I’m in love with you anymore,” he looks as if he has just broken his own heart. Even though he has spoken my feelings exactly, this cuts me deep like a knife. My soul feels like it’s bleeding out and drowning us both in a pool of my blood. “I know,” tears that I have been denying myself for months are now erupting from me. “I can’t say that I’m in love with you anymore either, but I love you more than I can possibly explain.” He pulls my head into his shoulder and strokes my hair. Stay calm, sweet girl, I will never leave you, is what he says to me with this action. He really has never broken that promise. Even when we have wanted to kill each other, I have never completely lost him. He is mine forever, my best friend and my soulmate who is no longer meant to be romantic. I break loose from his grasp and look forward. He moves his arm around my shoulder and pulls me in. I am warm, I am content. We watch the sunset together and enjoy the last moments we will ever have as lovers instead of just as friends. He is mine, I am his, forever.

3. “I miss the days when the only man I was in love with was my father,” Annette is moments from deep sleep right next to me, and this causes her to giggle right out of it. It is a part of our annual tradition that we have a sleepover the night before she goes back to Missouri. This goodbye will not be so bad because this will be her last miserable year in the state she hates. She will return to me, the sunshine, and palm trees right here in California in only a few months. Annette is my best friend, my sister, my most trusted confidante. I can communicate to Annette with a breath, a stare, a simple phrase; when we are together, we are one. “You’re ridiculous, Margot,” her fake irritation always charms me, makes me believe I’m funny. “Now let me sleep, I have a 25-hour drive in the morning,” she drifts back into almost sleep, but I am wide awake. I hold onto these last moments with her because I am terrified for the ones that come after. She is my only real friend, the only one that actually cares whether I live or die, whether I’m happy or sad. She’s the only friend who hasn’t betrayed my pathetically gullible trust. “I love you, Annette,” I whisper to her sleeping subconscious, as if this fact isn’t as clear as day to her. If I’m being honest, even one more year without her will be a hard one to get through. She will abandon me to my own devices, and secretly, I wish I was the one that had to go to school in Missouri to play soccer. In Missouri, I wouldn’t be haunted by the ghosts of old boyfriends, I wouldn’t be crippled by the pain of the past that looks me in the eye every single day I pass by my high school. I could be someone different entirely. That is what I have always wanted: to be someone else entirely.

4. I have a funny obsession with mirrors. I write about them, I dream about them, I stare at myself in them incessantly in hopes that I will someday find myself beautiful. Many people awe over my beauty, compliment my luminous skin, ask me where I get my hair done, and how I stay in such good shape. I do not see what they see. I see the lumpy prepubescent girl I once was. I can almost see the frumpy, Pillsbury dough poster child that once looked back at me through the façade of the pretty girl that looks across from me now. I can still hear “you’re a fat, worthless piece of shit, Margot,” coming from my seventh-grade bully’s mouth at each moment I allow myself to feel pretty. I sit and stare at myself in my ceiling-to-floor length mirror and examine what’s looking back at me. I am the picturesque symbol of a self-hating narcissist, a term I have just coined in this very moment. I see all the beauty and all of the ugly in myself all in one blink of an eye. The image of me is as if Janis Ian and Rachel Green were walking nervously along the same tight rope where the center is a deadly pit of fire. I crawl back into my bed covers and shut my eyes. I see myself as I want to be. I am laying in a field of bright red roses, the sun filling me with warmth under the shade of a eucalyptus tree. My mind has taken me to my Eden. I lay here for a while and dream of a different life, a life in rose fields that go on forever. I wish to stay here eternally, even if it isn’t real. I do not wish to leave this paradise, the only place that has ever truly felt like home. I wish to stay blissfully alone in another realm of reality.

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tiredbiplantlady · 7 years

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Tbh I get it - the self-deprecating posts we all share with each other, notes in the hundred thousands or more, have their purpose. It makes us feel like hey, it isn’t just me who can’t get out of bed. It isnt just me who is terrified for the future. It isnt just me who has wild mood swings and depressive episodes. It isnt just me who half jokes about killing myself in the form of morbid memes.

And yet, what is the price I pay for surrounding myself with those things on a daily basis? I feel a sense of solidarity with people who post and reblog them. I laugh a poisonous laugh at myself and the world, joking about the uncertainty because what else am I to do? “I guess sometimes all you can do is laugh.” But it reminds me of my mother who never makes any changes in her life and is horrified of the thought. She fantasizes, applies for jobs, looks at apartments and she never follows through even when she had a shot. She shoots herself in the foot before she even takes a chance. I grew up learning that and I’m tired of being it. Of following the path that’s leading me to be it even more. Things are miserable for her and she laughs the most morbid, sad and self hating laugh when bad things happen - “life is bad no matter what so what did I expect bahahaha!”

I get it that people need those things, memes about being ready for death and laughing about hating myself. Maybe you won’t tomorrow. Maybe you will. I don’t need them now, and I’m tired of being surrounded by it because quite frankly, I believe the constant presence stops becoming solidarity and more like a giant ball of negativity we all keep rolling in motion, perpetuating an endless cycle of believing it’s okay to call yourself worthless trash as a joke. Habitation, desensitization are real. We talk about it with violence, porn, rape culture depending on your political views, so why do we hurl insults at ourselves even as jokes and act like being self-deprecating will cause growth? I'm not shaming anyone for doing and coping the best they know how right now, but I am pointing out something I've noticed for the first time.

I’m tired of hating myself and perpetuating the haha-so-funny aspect of these type of posts. “I have no idea what I’m doing, I’m trash lol” of course I don’t know what I’m doing but that doesn’t mean I’m trash. Or a child. I’m doing the best I can with what I have and that’s all I can do. I have no idea what I’m doing, but I can’t wait to learn how. Just because I don’t know something doesn’t mean I’m still a kid faking being an adult and talking about it as “adulting”. I am allowed to play video games, make dumb mistakes, watch kid movies AND go to grad school, pay bills, and work a steady job. That doesn’t make me less of an adult or as though I’m faking and not a real one.

This last weekend, someone called out my victim mentality self-deprecating patterns of speech in a gentle but honest way, telling me that just because something fucked up happened to me doesn’t mean that I’m a fuck up or I’m fucked up. I’m just a person and these things that happened to me are not who I am or dictate what I’m capable of. As long as I continually see myself as unworthy, I’m going to keep myself from growing and learning as much as I could be. And that truly moved me, sparked something that changed me. I’ve known these things and for whatever reason it took that conversation to do it.

I was victimized but I’m not a victim now. I am victimizing myself and going in circles pretending everything in my life is beyond my control, at the mercy of fate or someone else’s choices. And of course I feel that way when that has been my life for years. But that isn’t my life now. I am in control of me, I am capable and strong and I don’t always know what I’m doing but I can learn, and I can do right by me even if it hurts other people for me to do so. Sometimes disappointing people is necessary to do what’s best for you. The more you listen the stronger your intuition whispers to you and I’m still learning.

I want to surround myself with postive and supportive people who want to see me grow, jot people who want to drag me into their self-deprecation cycle so we’re codependently relying on each other for validation and allowing one another to hate ourselves because at least I’m not alone. I don’t think people even do it on purpose, but I feel like that culture of supporting one another’s bad thought patterns happens here so much. Like how thinspo and pro-ana groups give each other tips to hide their issues to slowly kill themselves and make each others psychological misperceptions and self hatred worse. It’s one thing to be supportive of someone and not shaming them for feeling self hatred - that’s being a good friend. But being in a group of self hating people who say it’s a joke and it’s funny and popular on here to talk about yourself as trash, as incapable, as fucked up has inarguably made my mental illness worse and has allowed me to forgo any responsibility for my feelings, desires and behaviors by saying “it’s just cause I’m fucked up/mentally ill/will never be good enough/my parents were shitty/etc.” And the longer I tell myself that the worse off I am. What happened to me does not determine my future and I AM capable of being the person I want to be, even if it’s hard and painful and I fall down a lot. Growing up how i did and having the traumatic experiences I’ve had has shaped the way I think about myself and the world. And I don’t want to give them that. Not anymore. I’m reclaiming my mind as my own, my body as my own, my desires and feelings and hopes and fears as my own. Of course it’s hard to undo what was the result of pain and trauma. Of course.

I don’t want to hate myself anymore and I don’t want to be afraid of being afraid. I don’t want to be afraid of failure or being alone. I’m breaking this cycle now. I want real support and encouragement, not laughing at how pathetic I am or how I can’t control my behavior based on my feelings. The past matters as far as changing its patterns, but the past is not today. What happened to me matters, but only because I became stronger as a result, not as an excuse to hate myself or not try anything new. I thought I’d never survive the trauma, that it was too much to handle. But I pulled thru. I avoid having a job because what if I mess up, fail, what if it’s too much to handle. The only way after what I’ve been thru for a job to be too much to handle is if it’s too much hope for me to have for the future, too many connections and opportunity to get close to people.

I deserve to be where I’m at because I worked to get there. And now I want more and I can work to get that too. I’m strong and powerful and no one can take my will from me. I survived and I will always survive. I rely on others, clinging, to meet basic needs, but it’s time to rely on myself to find them. It’s time to be the mother for myself I never had and set a better example for the wounded part of me to follow. I am good enough and my choices have given me everything I have and everything I don’t but want. And I am growing. I’m glad for the struggle and fear and pain and everything I’ve been through because it was leading to this and this is leading to even more I can’t yet see. I will do everything I cam to be the person I want to be and I can feel in my bones, in my heart, my soul that I can love myself as deeply as I wish to be loved, that I can achieve what I’m meant to achieve, and my mistakes do not define me, but how I handle them does. Trauma does not define me but how I work through it does, what I do with it does, and I desperately want to fly on my own. So I will teach myself how.

#meandmine #eating disorder mention #this is not me telling others what to do #it's my experience of my life and if you have a problem with that it isn't mine #i know what's right for me and you can critique my wording and ideas all you want but it doesn't change how i feel

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davenylane · 5 years

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Basically, life

So life has been random lately.

Basically I'm realizing how much I get jewed, some peoples petty game is really I could say too strong but really I'm like lol wow....all yall really fuckin dedicating your existences to making others hell.

Well. That doesnt seem like 2 weak or anything.

And I'm honestly over it, so I'm like where am I really? It pisses me off that I gave so much of my time and energy and focus to this reptilian sumerian validation and literally I am ready to fuxkin punch all of them, especially if niggas are out here pretending the Cross is theres.

Uh its Joe's cross he took it and he can do whatever the fuck he wants with it. Who the fuck are you random fuckin lames pretending the King and consciousness and nature isnt all powerful. K. You all have a fun fuckin time being miserable and commiseratng. Like this cannot be who I let myself become.

Jake is so strong. He said hes gonna see Jake and Joe in New York and this is crazy but awesome that it went from Joe and I in this eneryy body to Jake and Joe and I and apparently Hilary.

Some people are incredibly rude, mean, ignorant and I'm like k honestly I'm not that bad. I'm not really ugly, I gained weight and I'm losing it and I'm curvy and not fat. I'm an aware person. I would never walk around SCREAMING random negative horseshit about someone random into the multiverse. Like lollllll all these fucks that are obsessed with 3D....kayyyyyy you have fun with that cuz really, you all seem to be and be having a lot of fun.....with your CONSTANT frowns and negative dispositions.

Pat said "big chief" bike is a cheap product. Like lol yeah. The native Americans were real cheap. As all you sold your soul so who is really cheap. Dont fuxking talk shit about my best friend, try to fuckin coexist dude. Dig after endless dig, I'm like yeah. Actually I'm an incredibly strong, faithful, loyal, sweet and happy, creative and nice person. I LIKE to be nice. I hate being mean but uh yeah I'm not gonna be in a fuckin hospital with my vaginal area out to the world like yeah I'll settle for this for myself and my family and my husband. Who the fuck are you things? Elite? K. You continue hiding in your human suits. You're all submissive to diable and baphomet and I personally dont really care nor is it really any of my business but I am a cute ass woman helping and healing and I babe have done a lot to help raise consciousness as has my whole soul family so whoever the fuck you are calling me a random chicken in the physical realm. Lol bitch no I'm not, 2nd I dont need to physically open my trap for you to hear me. 3rd of all, theres like a trillion of you who all say- do - act - walk- talk - exist - have the same personality / style / sense of humor....lemme guess it's at the expense of someone else? Wow. Doesnt make you funny. Make you a douche!!!!! Whoops. Not sorry for being honest and real, and if I'm ugly to you. Good. All your fuckin definition of beauty is a fuxkin joke. Wow. Nice contoour. Nice rack. Nice face. By the way your personality and fuckin soul is black as hell and ugly. Bye. I got better things to do but I'm like. I'm the dog..lol k no I'm not. I'm important and I matter and I connect to all that is conscious- extraterrestrials, Angel's, reptilians, animals, planets, weather, the cosmos, nature, yeah. I'm kinda Mary so who. are you again? Ob someone trying to negatively condition. K go jew yourself with your middle fingers up all your own ass I'm sick of all of you, you all are mad at me. Kay. You dont think I and all of us arent pissed as fuckinhell but we all manage to not fuckin walk around as a cantankerous fuckin killjoy. Get fucked. My life has been fuxkin hellish and I experience half the conscious stream of the satanic realm and underworld. So fuck off. Cuz this shit is hard and I'm still having a nice conscious intentional conversation with some asshole who pretends my best friends crucifix is his personal property, experience and was taken by his back.who are you brother? Ohhhh. Your satanic bible told you yall gettin into heaven. Yeah. Seems to be what's going to happen. As none of you repent, all of you project, none of you have knowledge of self or what truly matters in uh how about realisty and eternity? No? Sont wanna focus on it? K. Well whoever the fuck you are why dontu have a middle finger up your own ass pretending the Ascension of Mary and the Union of Christ and Mary and Nature and Natural Evolution of Consciousness is something that is suddenly going to just be thwarted and end with what? Ooh a little hex? A voodoo doll? A beneditionen of maledictus? Wht a bunch of fuckin ignorant and rude fuckin pieces of honest to God fuckin shit. Like I dont have time for this anymore. First off, I took too much shit. Second of all, I'm pretty and a VERY loyal wife and I really only care about Joe because he already been thru too much and if my so called reputation is shit I could give a fuck cuz he deserves to have the respect and awareness of who he is, what hes Done and all his power and experience.anyways

People I mean reptiles are gonna keep being highkey mad, pissy, rude, basic, ignorant and trying to make me seem like the ugliest, laziest, nastiest, fattest, trashiest, most worthless being ever. But even still k. This whole soul journey was a conscious intention of mine to climb. I'll ascend it all. This took a lot of hard work. It's always hard to transcend rude judgment and constant hatred and criticism as if all I am here for is to suck a cock- but regardless, I find my worth in Christ. As I am dating him, InRi- I mean IN Rey- the king himself seems to find me as worthy of being a Queen. So seeing as how what I really and truly am is a Queen, Goddess, Mother Nature, Mother Mary, Phoenix, Warrior Priestess + fuckin good person. I'm gonna focus on that. Cuz one thing is for sure- the day of reckoning is coming. I know who waits at the gate, its Joe. That's jesus and I know I'll be in the gates and next to him when Judgment day comes as his wife. And honestly, if I was a piece of shit and knew I wouldnt Ascend to heaven I might be a stay mad bitch too. But really I'd repent and change my actions. But then again. That's just not ever gonna happen for those that are 2 week. So peace out 3D. It's been, everything but real.

Watch my actions, not my words. Cuz intent and action is all that matters. Oh. And if we forgive, repent and choose to see we are all subordinate to the cosmic order of the cosmos. Which I personally, will always be humbled by.

But a bunch of bitches are gonna stay mad, they always been mad and theyll continue to be mad. Still bitches- I'm in their consciousness and they arent in mind so that fact and undeniable truth really says it all. Apparently I'm more important than they deemed. And its pretty apparent because God himself gave me this gift of consciousness. So now I shift into gratitude and the awareness that anyone who is hating and rude is what they always been, jealous. Ha. And still not me. They never took a knife nor jumped. And they certainly arent the caliber woman, being, soul and heart I am. So they can all get fucked and suck it. Cuz honestly. Ha. They already do!!!! Time to celebrate@ glad I chose to rise. And still. As always. I do.

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