there’s no way of knowing how utterly terrifying it is being your truest self until it’s suddenly your reality and there’s no going back. it’s offering yourself up like a bug placed neatly beneath a microscope. like a deer caught in the middle of the road, the lights blaring closer and closer, wondering if you’re milliseconds from making it or not every moment of every fucking day. it’s almost invigorating. somewhere between obliteration and adrenaline, neither one or the other. that heaving breath after having woken from falling and crashing into your own bed. but there’s no relief. or if there is, i haven’t been lucky enough to find it yet.
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practical magic
the decoy bride
crazy rich asians
ella enchanted
mirror mask
the secret of moonacre
rocky horror picture show
sky high
double dragon
the legend of johnny lingo
the thirteenth year
stardust
the princess bride
warm bodies
alice in wonderland where whoopie goldberg is the cheshire cat
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