Self image as investment. Approval as an asset is what closes the gender pay gap. Built on the thin ice of fake confidence and defiance, protected by a glass fence like the Eiffel tower, females (or other sexual objects) collect followers, likes, compliments and attempts to be fucked/be possessed, which will actually make them more desirable – a classic offer-demand situation. Self Image as a freudian instance, as the über-ich, ruled by the market. Capitalize or die and by dying I mean becoming invisible, becoming unperceived. I am perceived, therefore I am (valuable). If you want to win, you have to be good at controlling others' image of you. You have to curate. Tumblr prepared us for this. We are not doing it for ourselves anymore, to prove how sad and lonely we are, sadness as a female way of resisting, but now we’re doing it to profit from it. Have we just grown up and realized that the look of sadness doesn’t pay the bills (except for Lana del Rey, where the look of sadness is exactly what pays the bills), or is it empowerment, or is it a secret third thing, which has to do with … competition? Mischief? Giving in to the evil temptation? Women are known to give in to those u know. Sexual women are evil and evil women are sexual. But also so nice to look at. We ARE the forbidden fruit.

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I had an awful dream of the economy collapsing

I couldn’t find my KYLIE lip gloss anymore

I get up and ready

the seductive gloss glazes back at me and rose my net worth to 0.2% as I say to myself, “better feed the feed”

I like to wear corsets because while feeling bound, I feel held

unlike the flower I should be, I cannot bend or be bent

in slightly suffocating embrace I forget to do the dishes and fold myself into the couch like Dad’s sports paper after the second beer

I was obsessed with images of melancholic women ™ (tumblr.com, 2011)

I wished I was one of them

moking and purposefully decorative

from the corner of my eye; I’m looking for you looking at me looking away (dreamy)

I will cut the onions if that means you’ll see me cry

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When I want to pleasure myself

I visualize the woman having things done to her

That makes me an empath (the man has no face)

And while I desire her uncomfortable suave, I feel connected to the divine feminine (enjoying the conditioned urge to offer)