I am keeping secrets again,
For the first time in years.
There just isn’t anyone I feel like telling.
I am still an open book,
Only I’ve become the kind
With a chapter or two torn out
Because the author knew
No one would believe it anyway.
The reader would be heartbroken
If the heroine fell apart.
Currently listening to A Hard Day’s Night Album that I found from the external drive that was given to me by my friend. ohoho The Beatles!
its weird how you can have friends, but also have no friends at the same time
Think about the first name you were ever called,
and then think how long it took until
you got called a pussy
or a slut,
or a bitch,
or a whore,
all of which are words that fall too close to ‘girl.’
Think about the first time you got called a ‘girl’
and they said it with a sneer.
Like it was a bad thing.
For a boy, it is the lowest degradation to get called a girl.
For a girl, it is the lowest degradation to get called a girl.
Remember, black widow spiders and female praying mantises eat their partners after intercourse.
Remember, it’s the lionesses who hunt.
They come back with bloody muzzles, dragging bloated carcasses as the alpha lion strides around with his mane puffing out.
Remember, it’s only the female mosquitoes who drink blood.
We’re the ones who do the necessary work, dirty our hands,
fuck or fight or both.
We’re often the smaller sex, which makes us a harder target
as we slink close and sink our teeth in.
Remember: we’re deadly.
You should be proud to be called a girl.