Jun. 15th, 2017

dreadedcandiru2: (Default)
As we know, it's been ten years since Liz stood there grinning like a big, God-damned idiot because Jesse revealed that he hooked onto Jim's harmonica. We know that he was pissed off at her for rushing off down South but he handed her a bullshit story about wanting a souvenir of what she meant to him. Since she's the same sort of dimwitted sponge for flattery her mother is, Lizardbreath gladly swallowed his bullshit sundae because the idea met an emotional need. Her reaction to April's inconvenient and cruel comment about how the damned thing was not hers to give (and, perhaps, to someone else's mean-spirited and heartless remark about how giving Jesse a free pass on petty larceny fucked up his game) tells us what one of the three factors that make Liz fail miserably at life is.

The distressing is that said factor makes that self-absorbed dickchoad Michael into something of a prophet because, well, his comments about how she expects people to just show up and fling praise at her for doing essentially piss-all are pretty much spot on. Liz does expect to trade on her looks and she doesn't want to really do anything to earn the attention she lives for and she's both pissed off and frightened by a world in which she has to understand that there's a price to her being gushed at. Having to be actually worth the attention paid to her is even scarier than the Looming Shape Of Pea-Brained Malice that still haunts her sub-conscious mind. 

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