the lamb

Sarcastic portrayls of girlhood, and reviews of art and media.

[conversationswiththelamb]

[frontmansdefender]

I know everything is scary and all but

DON’T STOP TALKING ABOUT PALESTINE

[conversationswiththelamb]

[conversationswiththelamb]

[conversationswiththelamb]

[conversationswiththelamb]

Female Friendships

What do you do when you suddenly realise that you don't even know whether the person you once shared everything with is even alive?

When your only form of new intel is from their mother’s social media and occasional many-minute-long voice notes? Of which the voice notes contain only excruciating detail on doctors visits and begging for a scalding expose on the friendship's demise to send to her daughter's psychiatrist. I could do the latter, and name and shame, and nitpick everything she has ever done wrong in my many years of knowing her but I won’t. ‘Cause I wish her the best. 

It’s the pinnacle sentence, the cherry on top of every person’s rant, the neatest of bows tying back any blame or guilt. 

“I wish her the best.” 

It’s almost criminal in its brilliance. It’s vicious, and sure it can be genuine in the rarest of exceptions but roughly 99 percent of the time it is said through clenched jaws and fake grins over therapeutic cappuccinos or open bottles of wine. Those infamous words are often followed by further defamations until the speaker is overspent with emotions and finally the phrase is once again echoed throughout the members of the group. “I wish her the best”

How could you not? How else could you absolve yourself of any guilt or wrongdoing? You can’t just prey on someone's downfall- for their reputation to be torn to shreds by the wolves of public opinion by the licking of your lips. That would be bitchy. That would be mean, cruel, rude, anti-feminist, anti-emotionally-aware, and go against every self-help and soft-core philosophy book you pretended to read. You want to be the adult, emotionally mature and able to handle anything with the grace of Lady Di, but often, you feel like tween who's just discovered the wonders of an anonymous Instagram account so you tack on that magical tagline to feign maturity.

Clearly it wasn’t your fault! Even though a fight takes two and there might be many sides to a story, and you might not always say the right things it couldn't possibly ever have been your fault- ‘cause you wished her the best.

You fill your notes app with scenarios and situations, past and future. You question. You script. You rant.

When you see her again, you simply act as if nothing ever happened. You kiss her on the cheek, you share a meal and never follow up on the plans that you're "totally so keen" for next week. Then once you've left the function you return to the war room to recount the night's events with your mother or sister then once-more deliver the fatal blow. You wish her the best.

(Painting; Little Girl in a Blue Armchair (1878) by Mary Cassat)

[conversationswiththelamb]

In the Café

Fernand Lungren (1882–84)