straight outta hogwarts.

"I was born a cynic," Amory murmured. "I’m a cynical idealist." He paused and wondered if that meant anything.

I literally skipped class this morning because I didn’t like my face. It was so red and blotchy. Sometimes I’ll wake up and it’s fine, but today it was disgraceful. Not even makeup helped at first. I had to reapply it three times. Now that I have things looking up to par, I’m too lazy to walk to class and I’m quite late anyway. It’s just so sad that I’d actually throw away a lecture because I’m ashamed of how I look. If I could have anything, it would be perfect, glowing skin — not this pale, fair crap that gets all red when I run and harbors all of these random breakouts. People with great skin have no idea how lucky they are.

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I think the various messages behind women’s rights conflict to the point of confusion. There are so many disparate views that I’m not sure what to believe anymore.

Dress professionally and modestly so people will respect you, but don’t slut shame yourself for wearing tight short shorts and a crop top. Turn down random men who want to have sex with you because they enjoy the “chase,” but you can sleep with as many partners as you’d like without having to feel guilty about it.

Society has skewed the definition of morality so much that I’m starting to question whether morality even exists. People will tell you that anything is okay. Is everything okay, as long as it makes someone happy? I don’t think so. The world needs some kind of moral order. Otherwise, people would free ride and overindulge to the point of anarchy.

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