We're All Mad Here

This was part of an old picture series I made several years ago. But I thought it incredibly fitted to the next Marvel film due. That, and they actually looked halfway well done......

Made by Angelique

Made by Angelique

Made by Angelique.

Made by Angelique

Made by Angelique

The quotes don't quite make sense, but it was based off a music video using the song 'This is War' by Tatyana Oracle on youtube that I liked.

I also find amusing that most of these are of Steve......

I solemnly swear I am up to no good -

What choices I make are not what I should.

But I will do them because I can:

Sometimes the stronger is the one that ran.

I soullessly swear I am up to no good -

What I did 'til the end no one thought I could.

But this I have chosen; for this I will fight -

For in the end? Only this could be right.

It's quite annoying, really. 

One sits down to an episode or a film, and one enjoys it - and there is one actor that just does not look right, Well, he - or she - looks right, but too familiar! And yet not nearly enough to be recognised - just a niggling feeling....

It helps if it were a major film or production - but when they were only in one episode, or if I didn't even see them at all but only saw them mentioned tangentially in another post on something....  It gets confusing and annoying.

Something that irks me immensely: that I can't be feminine.

Well, obviously, I can - and yet, I can't without judgement.

I'm the sort of person that loves to wear stockings and heels, and hats, and gloves, and girdles, and corsets, and waistcoats, and skirts, and gowns....  And I'd wear them every single day if I could. I like a touch of makeup, and I love red lipstick, and I adore shapely nails. Such as the ones above - what started this rant.

And yet, perhaps I just don't meet the right people ever, but I've always been judged for it. Or gotten that strong impression. "Why are you wearing a hat? Are you going to a funeral?" 'Why are you wearing gloves? Are you sick?' 'Why are you wearing a skirt? Don't you have any work to do?' 'Why are you wearing heels? Are you trying to get some boy's attention?' 'Why are you wearing red lipstick? Do you want to be a lady of the night?' 'Why are your nails long? why are they painted? Do you do any work or are you just some prissy girl that thinks she's better than everyone?'

'You like dresses - you never do any work.' 'You like makeup - obviously, you're just throwing yourself at men.' 'You like books - you can't tell what's reality. No wonder you're so messed up - you're a drama queen.' 'You let boys hold doors open for you - obviously you want them to turn us all into their servants again.'

What's so wrong with you in this modern time? Corsets are instruments of torture made to imprison women - don't you know that? Are you just so lazy you don't want to excersise? You know, if you really wanted to fix yourself, you could. You're just too lazy to try. You're backwards, and ignorant, and stupid - and why do you give yourself airs? Pretend you're better? Look down on us other modern women?

So, it probably is all in my head. One of the best times of my life was when I found out that there were other people that wore and lived vintage fashion and lives. That I wasn't the only person. That I wasn't fighting against something no one else did.

so yes. Please. Tell me I shouldn't do this. that I'm backward - ignorant. I'm sick of it. This is something I actually enjoy. Even a little bit.

I really don't think I'm better than anyone. I don't think I'm pretty, or entitled, or....anything. It makes me feel pretty - makes me a part of something that I can actually fit in with. Barely - but I can try.

It's rather like I'm self destructing.

I don't want to hope or dream, but if I don't I'm breaking myself apart. I want it all to stop, but I want to survive, I want to escape, to spare everyone else - but I don't want to hurt them any more. I don't want to fail, but if I don't try I'll fail anyway.

And yet, I can't try. Half of me wants to curl up beneath the duvet as tightly as I can, to cover my ears and listen to my heartbeat and pretend that there's nothing outside. Half of me wants to ignore life and work and food and family and friends and school and whatever else seeks to call me out.Half of me just doesn't care what happens anymore.

The other half of me? Fears failing. Fears being mocked, being looked down on, being pitied, being condescended to, being hurt....  It fears hurting others - failing others....

and the two sides fight. I want to give up, but I have to fight. I don't care if I win, but if I lose I'll break. I don't know how to fight, yet part of me screams that I must.

And yet, I don't really feel anything. Not often. A flash of anger occasionally - but it's here then gone. It's just....Surrender. There's no point.

"For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come must give up pause."

I can sit down and tell anyone that they matter, that they're priceless. That life isn't so bad. But I can't sit myself down.  And how many others have I failed then? If I can't convince myself of that, how do I convince another....

But there's....a buffer. Between me and any feelings. I will regret this in the years to come - maybe, if I ever get well - but now? I can't care. I hid my scars so they're easy to repeat and shield - I moderate my speech to hide what I'm thinking, I try to do school and work - but grades? They don't matter.

Nothing matters.

Everything matters - and I can't do anything about it.

Feeling sick, as if a weight is pressing down on my, on my stomach.

Nothing hurts enough. I want to hurt someone. I want to hurt them until I hurt - and I can't bring myself to do that. I hurt myself then, hold myself back.

Better never to hope than to hurt.  And yet, that's not true. At least if I tried then I'd KNOW I couldn't have suceeded, rather than be haunted by the 'what ifs'.

How does one tell what's real and what's not? how does one tell if the fear and the hate and the nothingness is earned or not? How does one tell if anything is half as bad as one thinks?

I certainly can't. I never could.

But if I just tried harder. If I just worked more. If I was just more obedient. If I followed God's will. If I kept hope. If I wasn't so cynical. If I was more helpful and supportive. If I wasn't such a liar. If I wasn't so messed up.

If. If. If. If. If.

Stevenson wrote a poem titled If once....

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, or watch the things you gave your life to broken, and never breathe a word about your loss, if neither foe nor loving friend can hurt you, and so hold on when there is nothing in you except the will which says to them 'hold on'.

That's a bunch of separated lines of course - but it does sum it up. if. If I were better, stronger, more in control of myself.

AND I KNOW I CAN'T DO IT!!!  I've tried and haven't tried - but I don't know how to give up either.

But, dear Reader - do you know what the worst part of this is?

I'm not an idiot. Certainly, I'm not so good at interacting with the modern world, and I can be incredibly flighty and scatter brained, and I can't remember anything - but I'm not a total idiot.

When I watch films or series, it has to be complicated. If it doesn't have enough in it to occupy my mind, I go crazy and get incredibly bored and start nitpicking and tearing apart the production. I do the same in life too - just not audibly.

I look at the world from history, and from observances. When I do the same thing, I notice it in others.

She has deeper scars that I, and I can see them. And she's hiding more. And I'm terrified that one of these days I'm going to go in there, and I'm going to find her on the ground. I'm afraid she's either going to make a mistake and cut too deep, or that she'll do it on purpose. and I'm going to be too late to do anything.

I know myself. And I can see myself in others. 

And that scares me to death.