Tuesday, July 15, 2008

If I am missing or dead

I know I must, that I should and that I probably will, walk away.

Seem to have wandered close enough to words that bring me to breaking point.
At some point, the cracks will show, the insides threatening to explode in my face and bleed all over my hands.
And I will cry and cry and hate what has happened, and hate myself for bearing witness because i could not turn away.

It's because of who I am, I suppose.
I can't stand women being sexualized and degraded. Can't stand it that there are actually men in the world who exist to be such absolute pricks.

"Do you think men will ever see us as something more than sexual objects?" was the question,
"No" came the reply.
And they burst out laughing.

But I didn't think it was funny in the least.
Not in the fucking least.

I should stop doing this to myself because it's clearly driving me fucking insane.
But it's almost like I can't.
I can't bloody walk away now, not just yet anyway.

Keep on at it, figuring things will get better.
But they won't before they get worse.
Still, I can't seem to throw it out the window -
You've done well love, in keeping me absolutely hooked-
and that pisses me off more than anything else.

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