Cinderella Was A Western European

Fairy Godmother sends me a bath bomb,
says "Your wish has been granted" and
I wonder why wishes smell like pine,
I prefer them smelling like willows,
But I can't remember why exactly.

Fairy Godmother sends me a train,
It's slow.
Fairy Godmother won't give me water.
I ask why.

Sorry, Cinderella was western European,
No economic sanctions, no Balkans snafu,
God answers to prayers from the left of the schism.
I know she got it until midnight that night,
You'll get it until about eleven.
Can't really afford more, right?

Fairy Godmother sends me a chaperone-tte,
says: "Listen to what she says" and
I wonder why I'm told not to talk,
I pull a strange face to look neutral,
Because smiling is apparently bad.

Fairy Godmother enchants my shoes,
I can't move.
Fairy Godmother makes me a mute.
I ask why.

Sorry, Cinderella was a pretty teenager,
Very feminine, no oversized sweater and ponytail,
They like them pretty and emotionally unavailable.
Sorry, real Cinderella had impossibly small feet,
Didn't wear timbs and hit boys.
Be lucky you're read as a girl!

Fairy Godmother takes my very last Euro,
says: "I will predict what happens next" and
I am confused to read what I will become.
I'm not an older sister in Pushkin poems,
It's my love language, but still.

Fairy Godmother gets rid of the enemies,
I am alone.
Fairy Godmother makes me the only one.
I ask why.

Sorry, outsourcing to the Balkans is a new thing,
Economic crisis is at the door, we'll be broke,
And fierce Slavs prefer that fame thing to money.

I ask why.
I ask why.

Cinderella was a western European,
She was mute in person, but also elsewhere.
Cinderella was a real, genuine girl,
She had a face one could easily recognise.
Cinderella really needed to be saved,
And in a world of tropes, that's fairly lax.
When Cinderella worked some sort of a job,
She would be a good citizen and pay the tax.
Go take your shoe back wherever you came from.
You're not a Cinderella and nobody is a Cinderella here.

- December 02nd, 2016

They're not really Timbs, but BRITNEY SPEARS WORE THEM.

They're not really Timbs...

Your emotions, they're an abnormal thing because you care too much and you go beyond the scope of what is allowed and the "yourself" that you put there is not in the centre of things or particularly entitled in a way everybody else thinks they are. Anyway, you should be ashamed of your emotions, which will, eventually, lead you to killing them. Caring is abnormal. What you foresee is your paranoia, not your ability to assess things the way they are below that horrible, insane subjectivity of yours.

But know what the other issue is here? You're ultimately poor, no matter how rich you are by standards of Whatever-It-Is-And-Composes-Of-Right-Now and you're not a girl. So, don't even try to be a girl and don't even try to think you're equal to other people. Your sacrifice is noble and we totally have an interest in things. Now, if you had any sort of an interest, whether material or emotional, that would've been pathological.

To sum it up, fantasies are off-limits to you. Says who? Says I. And you're a child even though you're almost old enough to be in the parliament. Nobody likes people at this age, as that song said once, but nobody will like you next year or the year after anyway.


If you're offended by this and if you feel the need to defend yourself over it, you're wrong to begin with and probably not really smart, either. This plays on numerous stereotypes and tropes generally associated with a culture that - yes - stems from a particular area. And those voices, in combination with people who end up not being what you wanted them to be, give you a totally twisted picture of everything around you, to the point where you don't believe your own eyes.

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