Male fantasies, male fantasies, is everything run by male fantasies? Up on a pedestal or down on your knees, it’s all a male fantasy: that you’re strong enough to take what they dish out, or else too weak to do anything about it. Even pretending you aren’t catering to male fantasies is a male fantasy: pretending you’re unseen, pretending you have a life of your own, that you can wash your feet and comb your hair unconscious of the ever-present watcher peering through the keyhole, peering through the keyhole in your own head, if nowhere else. You are a woman with a man inside watching a woman. You are your own voyeur.
The Robber Bride by Margaret Atwood (via ferrismewler)(via heavy-petal)
you know what..i’ve had it up to HERE with apple and this fucking iphone that takes FIFTEEN MINUTES to charge when it dies and this itunes that needs an update every SIX breaths in order for this overpriced fucking phone to cooperate..
frankocean:
but.. it’s still the best phone out though. so..fuck it.
