like most shallow people that will admit they love gossip girl, and the seemingly deeper ones that try to conceal it, i’m addicted. to think that one could be a part of the world such as the upper east side of manhattan is striking and absolutely drool-worthy, just like all the characters in the show.
they play with our emotions, causing us to love one character at a time before their innermost devil is exposed, moving the limelight onto another rich, spoilt and misunderstood bitch. they spill scandal after scandal until a bunch of crazy connections are intertwined in our heads about who’s sleeping with whom and whose parents have illegitimate children together. we love it.
i’d like to think i’m like serena; happy, vibrant, lovable, passionate. her very name shows you what she’s supposed to be; a peace keeper with a dash of bitterness to keep things interesting. she’s the stuff dreams are made of; a nice girl trying to escape her past and have fun along the way. even though she gets into trouble she remains loyal and upstanding.
but the truth is that i’m more like blair. i’m not interested in simple nice boys that would give you their world; to my horror, i’m attracted to broody, mysterious and fucked up men that will never be pleased by anything and cannot maintain a normal relationship. the tortured artists, the insane family dramas, the unsaveable, unlovable, untouchable.
and even though there’s so much i don’t believe in, so much i detest and so much i’d raise my eyebrows at, i can’t stop.
i just want to live vicariously through someone glamorous. sue me.