Jadyn Kavanagh > Recent Status Updates

Perhaps his crush was strange and indicated some flaw in his personality or dysfunctional consequence of his childhood, even though it was just the ordinary, happy childhood of a shy, earnest boy who could get a little too intense about things but mostly slipped under the radar.

i love masha

He did care very deeply for Masha. Was that so strange? To love your boss? Surely not so strange when you lived and worked together, and when your boss looked like Masha. She was interesting and stimulating. He found her exotic accent as attractive as her body. He would admit he had a significant crush on her.

They nearly all loathed their bodies. Women and their bodies! The most abusive and toxic of relationships. Masha had seen women pinch at the flesh of their stomachs with such brutal self-loathing they left bruises. Meanwhile their husbands fondly patted their own much larger stomachs with rueful pride.

why the f is grieving on low's to-do list??

i feel like williams has taken the list concept too far.

I wanted to tell her everything, but I remembered the way his thumb had felt brushing tears from my cheek, the concern and care in his eyes when he came in and the heat in them when he told me he wanted me. That all felt private, like holding on to it would keep the sparks fresh.

🥹🥹

freida please mama do not let me down

“The second I became famous, everyone stopped seeing the real me. All they see is Rae Rose now and what she can do for them or give them. You know my mom used to be my best friend? Even she just sees me as an ATM now. It sucks. And the thing that’s so weird is I’m rarely ever alone, and yet I can be standing in a room full of hundreds of people that supposedly love me and feel completely isolated.”

💔

“No. In fact, Rae Rose just absorbed me. I feel like I haven’t been Amelia in so long. Except for you and your sisters, everyone just calls me Rae now. Even my mom. It’s…” I falter for polite words to describe what it feels like, so I settle with a basic childish idea instead. “I hate it. I feel so jumbled and unsure of who I am.”

And at this moment, I would trade my celebrity confidence for basic social skills in a heartbeat. Because I have to make a simple phone call and my hand is shaking. What do I even say when I call?

I miss Amelia. I miss the days when playing music and singing was what it was all about. These days, I’m nothing but a maxed-out credit card that everyone keeps swiping.

Most of the stories I tell on talk shows have been finely tuned and vetted by my PR team first. Rae is nothing but a character I hide behind, because I learned from a young age that faking confidence is the only way to make it through this business. But the more times I have to put on that facade each day, the more I feel myself slipping away.

From the outside, people would think I have it all. Rae Rose is strong, talented, poised, and oh-so-successful. She owns any room she walks into and her confidence behind a microphone will make your knees buckle. The problem is, even I am not Rae Rose. I don’t run my socials, I don’t choose my outfits for events or interviews, I want to call my mom more than anything but our relationship is crap so I don’t.

Perhaps I have more music to share or advocacy to spearhead on a public stage, but I’d like to believe it’s equally okay if my name is never in lights again, and I’m just an average human trying to love my neighbors and care for the planet we call home. In that sense, my deepest fear is my greatest opportunity: to embrace life as a has-been and give myself the radical permission to change.

I am Willy Wonka and this is my factory and I walk you through the floor to let you see how the candy really gets made. I tell you about my rides with Glenn, about how sick I was over the way he treated you, because the chasm was too deep. The man wanted to help me, and he wanted to destroy you, but at the end of the day, I chose you over him, over my future.

the willy wonka references are killing me

i’m starting to think this girl is on goodreads more than i’m on goodreads 😞

reading modern pop-culture references is so weird. why am i old enough to understand these references??

I let Ivy League girls get the best of me, I nearly died in the war to find a companion. But you’ve pushed every man away, and like it or not, your lack of experience is reflected in your writing. I love you for that—you were saving yourself for one true love—and we are in this together.

I know that you want to be superhuman, invincible. You’ve never been in a serious relationship and you’re a novice. You aren’t carrying the baggage that most of us lug around at this age. You don’t know what it’s like to be faithful to the wrong person.

I don’t want to sit around staring at you from afar. I want to see you, and it’s a free country, and your Dunkin’ is within walking distance of my place, so fuck it, Wonder.

i just love him

You get a notepad out of your backpack, and you are earnest, noting all the books. You tell Lou that you already read his book—you won a galley in a Goodreads giveaway—and ah. You’re a Goodreads girl. You “love to read”—good.

GOODREADS MENTION

You think you're special, and you are, to a degree.

oh this book is starting off with a BANG

A lot’s changed since I wrote that first draft of You in 2013. (I think it’s officially clear that Penn Badgley was the right one to play Joe onscreen.) One way in which I don’t change is that I still get butterflies when I realize that my imaginary “friend” Joe exists in a real, meaningful way for so many people.

I wasn’t mugged. Love shot me. And then she shot herself.

joe goldberg can i trust you

You have to encourage Nomi to believe an outright lie because you’re a good mother and you’ve wondered what’s worse: your daughter knowing that your husband fucked your best friend or your daughter thinking Melanda was a sexually deviant spinster child molester.

“My mom has cancer and fuck cancer is right because that shit is expensive.”

All day I check my phone and you don’t text and I don’t text and you kissed me so maybe I should be the one to text you and I try to find the words.

Hi.

But that’s too fucking wimpy.

Hey.

But that’s too fucking cocky.

Are you there?

But that’s too fucking pushy.

I’m here.

But that’s too fucking needy.

peering into joe goldberg’s brain

I think about Charlotte & Charles. I daydream about Love. I think about the baby, running from Love to me and then back again. I dream of the baby learning to walk and I wake up ready to face my long days of cheap coffee and interrogations.

🫠🫠

It’s been three days and life is never how you expect it to be. The food here isn’t bad. It isn’t good, per se, but I’m not starving. In the newspapers they call me Killer Joe and it’s disappointing, the failure of modern media, the lack of originality. Love visits me. Her father too. At night I worry. I wonder if there are other mugs of piss, if I forgot about them.

It’s so different being at Taco Bell with Love. She already has pregnancy cravings and wanted to pig out on enchiladas and gorditas. Twins. But we don’t order everything on the menu, just gorditas and two chicken tacos.

IT’S true what they say about happiness. If you approach life from a place of gratitude, you’re more apt to enjoy things. I am whole. I don’t need fame; I never wanted that and I did not move here because of aspirations. It’s enough for me to write and know that I did the best I could. I enjoy my life. Our life.

joe is insane.