Artists like Olivia Rodrigo validated my suppressed anger—and gave me space to be petty—by helping to create a world that validates feminine fury.
Like any good fantasy, my desire for all MGK represents is a guilty pleasure, not sustainable or practical.
In a theater, I am freed by the voices that shake the rafters, the dancing, the lights, and the colors. Musicals are my form of catharsis.
Eurydice’s decision to choose comfort could be read as a betrayal. But it is a survival response, an instinct to protect the self.
Hayley’s rage-filled vocals used to provide an emotional outlet that gave voice to loss, anger, and confusion I couldn’t put words to yet.
“Plastic Hearts” was the album I needed to hear, articulating what no one else would tell me: My plastic was no longer serving me.
Her anger had made its way to her music; my anger couldn’t find a home outside my own head.
There is something freeing about being in a ballroom full of people singing about how we all deserve to feel a love that reverberates through the walls of our body.
That first time I heard it, the music was so catchy and the words were so ridiculous that I threw my head back and laughed. I opened the curtains that had been closed for a month.