Fucking Princess, Polly Trope

Polly Trope in front of London subway

My disposable childhood rises from the ground like a ghost : all flimsy cartoon strips from the back of cereal boxes and ice cream wrappers, all freebies and kinder surprise eggs, crocos, hippos, turtles and glitter stickers, plastic toys from Mc Donald’s kids’ menus, dinosaur magazines, tiny toon pogs from crisp packets, collectible bumper stickers, and endless bubble gum from bubble gum machines, smurf sweets, cola sweets, and slime jelly toys, glow-in-the-dark plasticine in a pot, and worthless accessories from a teen girl’s magazine, like stick-on tattoos and rubber bracelets, and fruit flavoured lip gloss. One day we bagged it all and threw it out, since then I have taken to burning clothes.

I don’t know what poked open and collapsed the bubble of cheap dreams, with all its fake needs and sheepish wants created by salesmen and adverts, the Diors and Zadigs of this world, that still want me to want to be a princess — but why would I want to be a fucking princess? The faces of the past have vanished like ghosts, and all I have left is a tutu, and the crossroads blues.

When I was away wandering burnt landscapes, my angry feelings didn’t change. Life slowly rolled forwards and its toxic-particle-laden tide sometimes buried me whole, the wind and the waves threw glassy sand in my face and the skin on my hands became a bit rougher. I never thought back much about our old fights that we used to have, how brittle and ashen they would leave me feeling. I didn’t feel happy, but I carried that brittleness along, thinking, at least there is one person out there, who knows how I feel, because they did it. It took me so long to see at last that even you had no idea, and I am alone with the strange trees and the ashes within. I started building my own little house. Now that many years have passed and I once again look in your eyes, the will to fight back and to say how I have felt and where I’ve been, now that I am strong and you are old, has turned sour like the old soups from my kitchen, when i forgot to put them in the fridge.

 

See more on Polly’s blog, Fucking Princess

Noel Maurice is one of the founders of indieberlin. Originally from the UK via a childhood in Johannesburg, he has been resident in Berlin since 1991. Describing himself as a 'recovering musician', he is the author of The Berlin Diaires, a trilogy detailing the East Berlin art and squat scene of the early 90s, available on Amazon and through this site.

1 Comment

  • Reply August 3, 2014

    Noel

    Nice new pic, Polly!!!

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