My religion is very simple. My religion is kindness.
Wilexico, a supergroup to my taste.
I don’t want to be a feminist anymore. Like a five-year-old, I want to close my eyes, stick my fingers in my ears, stomp my feet on the floor and scream “No! No, you cannot make me, I won’t, leave me alone!” I am, simply put, too tired. So very, very tired.
I am tired of fighting with my friends. I am tired of arguing that someone groping and slapping my butt isn’t “what I have to expect”, just because I’m at a bar, and the one attacking my butt has a drink in the other hand. I am tired of hearing “boys will be boys” and “when you’re dressed like that …” and “that’s just what guys do”. I am tired of trying to drown those sentiments in loud, repetitive no’s, screamed over and over again, till my throat is sore and my voice weak – just to hear them repeated, as soon as exhaustion threatens to silence me.
I am tired of being afraid. I am tired of seeing someone writing something offensive, sexist, racist, ageist, ableist, somewhere online. I am tired of seeing those writings getting likes and lol’s, and SO TRUE’s. I am tired of being consumed by confusion and anger, typing, typing, typing and typing a seemingly endless response, including research, links and statistics, and then hesitate clicking “submit”. I am tired of knowing that I hesitate because I am afraid of the flood of responses that will come. I am tired of knowing that I will be bombarded with lighten up’s, stop whining’s and get a sense of humor’s for so long, that I will start to wonder if I am indeed wound up too tight, a nagger and humorless. I am tired of the fact that I’m afraid of being called a cunt, even though I don’t find genitalia insulting or demeaning.
“The most maddening thing about love is that you don’t choose who you fall for. Yeah, you might have a “type” or prefer certain characteristics, but when it comes down to it, you can never fully decide who you end up giving your heart out to. It could be anyone. And the craziest thing is, there are a million other people it could have been; somebody richer, somebody taller, somebody more trustworthy, somebody with different eyes, somebody more ambitious. But none of that matters because those people and all of their qualities don’t and won’t add up to the person you really care about, despite the things they might not have or might not be. I’ve recently found that someone I know is and has all of those amazing things up there in red, but they’re all just that - things. It doesn’t matter to me that he may be smarter or more honest or even better looking, because he’s not him. He’s not who I want, and it infuriates me. But that’s just love. “The only wild card”. So, go ahead and ask yourself; “What is it about the person I love that makes me love them over everyone else?” What can you find? Or what do you not know?”
Written by porcelain—bones