vent

When I cut myself, I bleed. When you kill me, I die. Am I really so different from you? Am I really below you? A higher pitch in voice, a little less body strength, a different set of words used to describe me, is that what makes somebody less human? No matter what, you’re cursed. They think they’re entitled to your bodies, your minds, and if you’re special you’re no more than an object, if you aren’t then you’re a nuisance, they’ll throw their empty drink containers at you, they’ll put their hands on you, and it’s “funny” when you react to it because “you’re just being dramatic”, but they weren’t being dramatic when they decided that just because they wanted you that you were theirs, that just because they didn’t that you were deserving of punishment for a crime no more severe than not conforming. I am not an object. Whether you would like to cherish me or exile me, I am more than how I look. I am a woman. "Woman" does not mean "animal", "woman" does not mean "toy", "pretty" doesn't mean I want you, and "ugly" doesn't mean I've done anything to deserve the shit you've done to me because of it. I hate the world for what it does to us.