my baseball bat
For Xmas, I bought myself a baseball bat. Isn’t she a fucking beauty?!

It’s the holiday season and I’ve been forced to ponder things very deeply and very astutely. It’s an unfortunate occurrence as I think I’m pretty on throughout the year but forgive me for I am about to be blunt. I must address all who dare come out of the woodwork and come to me in both tangible and ghostly scenarios. It’s a cosmic joke that almost feels like you all met beforehand and planned sporadic trips upon my doorstep.

When I was growing up I always thought that I had failed men, when in truth, it was they, who had failed me – again and again. My whole life has been a power struggle with invisible XY chromosomes and for what? I’ve accomplished things in spite of them, and until recently, my version of success was based more in defense tactics rather than in offense. I want to free myself from this. While I acknowledge that this can never completely happen, because the sexes will always battle on some level (this can be seen in nature), my primary focus will be on myself. I will handle weapons instead of shields.

I will win on behalf of my own glory first. If I should win in front of you, putting you out of your misery, this would only be a plus. I’m tired of being a victim, tired of being pushed around. I’m tired of keeping my mouth shut, and saying “…it’s okay.” I’m tired of not being able to love properly, whatever that means. The Woods sprouted foliage from my veins, I own them and you don’t have an invitation to peruse them whenever you like. They’re meant for me and a select few. There’s nothing here for you.

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