#hiiii i’m insane about fig All The Time actually

[starstruckodysseys]

can you imagine being thirteen and having the world at your fingertips. everyone loves you - why shouldn’t they? you’re the epitome of a good girl, the ideal, the popular cheerleader type who gets The Guy. you giggle and you flirt with the football players and you have sleepovers with your friends (who don’t really feel like your friends but you’re all popular so you have to like each other, right?). you do your makeup and you bat your eyelashes and everything is perfect.

and then you start growing horns. you start looking like the devil - and you might as well be, the way everyone turns on you, starts looking at you as if you’re a freak, a monster. and, well, if everyone’s going to treat you as such, you might as well play the part, right?

so you rebel against your parents (if they’re not lying about that, too). you go out and you buy a bass guitar and you pluck at the strings until your fingers bleed. it’s better than listening to the arguments downstairs. you transform into people you’re not to pretend you could really be someone instead of the shell you are now. you flirt with guys twice your age to pretend you still have it in you, even if it feels hollow. you grin and you bear it but it’s hollow, in the end.

if you can’t be perfection anymore, why bother being anything?

(and then you meet the most wonderful people in your life. and they accept you as you are and don’t ask you to change. but you find yourself changing anyway, because they make you feel like you can be something. like maybe it’s worth it again. and you finally get The Girl. and maybe life isn’t perfection anymore, but maybe perfection is overrated, anyway.)