She was so mysterious and beautiful in a manner that played at his emotions and desires so severely that she had to know. The aura of unbridled sexuality she emitted was far beyond any other girlʼs. He lusted after her, wanting to know who she really was beneath her guarded persona. She was so cool.
I am an overall threat to the Movement of Universal Chillness. I flail a lot. I physically can’t lounge anywhere. My voice reaches the high octave of a pubescent boy when I dislike something that’s happening. Help me.
For the Chill Girls out there, please wake up. Be the Cool Girl again.
The version of Lawrence who doesn’t kowtow to patriarchal douchebags is the Lawrence who started much-needed conversations about sexual power and wage inequality in Hollywood and beyond, and the world needs that Lawrence more than it does the chick with the butt plugs and Doritos.
We cover up pieces of ourselves and unveil them little by little, until he can finally see there is no such thing as the ‘cool girl’ because we’re all a little bit crazy.
How does one even casually date another? Like, what are the rules? Are there any? Or do you just emptily fuck them and take them to dinner, ask them questions about things you don’t really care about and then at some point in the future decide they’re boring and move on?
Telling dirty jokes or anti-feminist ones even though the punchlines kind of disturb you just to prove how chill you are.
I’m tired of feeling like I have to explain myself if I’m caught with Marie Claire in my hands, like it’s such a big fucking deal. Should I start carrying some Hemingway as a backup, to prove that I’m not nearly as stupid as you think I am?
Dancing in the middle of the room when nobody else is.
If any of these resonate with you, you might be faking it too.