More scribbles, than blog. More soul, than mind. More heart, than reason.

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To my Princess Lea

As women we are picked apart. Bargained, sold, pulled, judged, starved, undressed, over-dressed. We are told to not be too much, but not too little either. We are living on the edge of the blade. Scarcely balancing the line between acceptance and disobedience. We are praised for our compliance. When we are abused, we learn to blame ourselves. When too much, we learn to shove our stomachs full of cotton. When too little we fade away. When too naked, we are available. When too overdressed, we are oppressed. When too successful, we are bitches. When too manly, we are doomed. When, when, when, when…

Fear calls for control. What you control you will never have to dread. When you learn to manipulate, you can create the narrative.

What you do not know is that we hold the paintbrushes to our own lives. You cannot control the ocean. You cannot cage the wind. You cannot belittle the sun. You cannot underestimate the power of a woman. You were once part woman too; do you not remember? The same parts you are trying to sell, claim and mutilate were the same one’s that gave you your first breath.

People will always try to cage you. People will dislike you. People’s words will hurt. Remember that you are the ocean itself, your salt will rust the metal, wash away the negative and the sun will always rise from the very depths of you. When it does, the world will hold its breath in awe of such beauty. How can it not, when the life of this whole planet is dependent on this power…

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