I find Kristen Stewart quite enjoyable. She seems pretty down-to-earth, she’s not into the whole Hollywood bullshit thing, she’s cute, whatever. She’s okay in my books. But one thing I will say is that homegirl really thinks she’s some deep intellectual who’s so ~in tune~ with her innermost soul and has an understanding of the world that many others lack. It’s the kind of thinking you’d expect from a 17-year-old hipster, but not from a 25-year-old, so it’s a bit concerning. But whatever, here’s some of the navel gazing she did for the August issue of Marie Claire.
She spent years being taken to task for striking doleful poses on the red carpet, or not shining in talk-show settings, or daring to have desires beyond those the public prescribed to her because they believed they had the right to shape her persona since she was a young girl in a series of blockbuster films based on best-selling books. Finally, she decided to embrace the rebel labels thrown her way and say, “Fuck it all!”
“I lit my universe on fire,” she admits with a sly smile, “and I watched it burn.” Stewart drops her head, tugs at the hem of her simple black sweatshirt. Fans away a mosquito. Yanks a fallen tube sock from its cotton pool in her Converse sneaker. “Speaking very candidly,” she says at last, lifting her chin and swallowing a gulp of her vodka tonic, “it was a really traumatic period in my early 20s that kick-started something in me that was a bit more,” she pauses, then settles on the word, “feral.”
“I’m really proud that I am able to move forward and not fall into every mental crater. That’s a new thing for me. Age has made me smarter and calmer. And it is fucking awesome.”
Oh, God help us all. No one seriously refers to themselves as “feral” – I mean, no one outside of a first year creative writing major. Come on, KStew, I expect better from you. Also, “age” hasn’t made you anything. You’re 25, for fuck’s sake, not 50.