Ive been thinking recently about why women are perceived to be the weaker sex, to be fragile around menstrual cycles, to be seen as inferior and weak minded due to hormones. This is all utter and total nonsense of course, I have realised that the main reason women have been perceived in this way is plain and simple, its because we bleed and this frightens men, we were forced to see our menstrual cycles as a personal affair that we should keep concealed and to ourselves to remain acceptable to males, so that they don’t have to think ‘Ewh she’s bleeding and hormonal’.
This nonsense way of thinking starts in primary school in around the 6th grade where the sexes are divided and a nurse turns up at the school with a bag full of male & female secrets that shall not be divulged across the gender gap. Girls get told about the impending shame that is to befall them and the many ways to conceal it from humanity, for its not to be seen or talked about and it’ll make you feel different but we’re female so we’re allowed to feel inferior and shameful and tired. The boys get carted off and told about testicles and erections and hair growth and strength increase and deep voices and how they are going to feel strong and driven. This is the fundamental mistake, the genders should not be divided to talk about this stuff, both genders need to know what is happening to each other, girls shouldn’t have to hide periods from people in shame but announce their cycle as a herald of look out, I may be a bit shouty for the next few days but its ok because you, boys, feel like that most of the time but you think its normal and it is normal, maybe we don’t actually feel that different from each other but we’re just told to. I would suggest boys and girls generally feel the same, both are emotional, both are confused, both feel urges of anger and frustration, both feel insecurity and shame. Boys have the shame of unwanted erections and contestant urges to fiddle, girls bleed for approximately 30 years, its life. A lot of the gender differences are imprinted from nurture not nature, if boys were told its ok to cry and be emotional Im sure that they’d be crying most days on par if not more than girls, its the repression that manifests itself as frustration that results in anger, this can happen to both sexes but girls get a pass because they’re hormonal! Boys are hormonal too! Why do educators make it such a gender divide? Surely it must be imperative for each sex to understand the other and not feel embarrassed or shameful about how their bodies work and change and surely this has to happen from an early age. So why in the UK is it still taboo and given such a .
Girls are not the weaker sex, girls have just been told they are for so long that they hide behind this veneer because society has told them to.
I have only truly ever loved two men,
They both have the same name….
I have an awful feeling this is the end of us.
I can’t stop crying, this doesn’t help as its just making him angrier.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t be…
I will always remember the colour of your ears. Thinking how quickly the blood had turned thick & pooled, dark and still, trapped in this bits of your body where it stayed after you heart stopped. Viscous, oozing, moving slowly, only with gravity, to the areas lowermost in your body as you lay supine, a blanket up to your chest, the sticky pads of the defibrillator still attached to your skin just visible under the edge of the satin lined cream wool. Your highest features already a waxy yellow, your nose, your forehead, your chin, your chest, making you look like a waxwork dummy. The dark blood hanging in your ears & lobes. I remember thinking on how wrong they get it films & TV. How can they get the colours all so wrong? Why do they lie? When you’re dead, even just an hour after, you turn a horrible fatty yellow and aubergine purple where the blood is draining & gathering and congealing. Rothkoesque, clashing colours, the colours of death on this still canvas, only possible with a stillness that will come to us all.
No one tells you this, I guess youre never meant to know the colours you go….
I gave up food and took up cigarettes. I got thin.
I gave up cigarettes and took up crisps. I gained weight.
I gave up crisps and took up cheese. I gained more weight.
To give up cheese can I take up cigarettes again?
In response to Fidget Spinners and his inability to tolerate them despite them being gadgets for people with ASD…
“My mental-ness doesn’t manifests in physical twitching, mine manifests in mental twitching.”
This week he has wandered, but only inside the house & garden. He has wandered and contemplated and wandered about some more. Then stopped wandering and questioned everything, then got angry, then depressed, then confused. He’s broken things & repaired things, then got angry because he broke the things in the first place. He’s questioned why he’s angry, why he’s broken things, why he can’t face people outside this week.
We all know the answer is all to do with his Mother phoning him. She has phoned because she is afraid she is dying, afraid that she’s not recovering from the hip replacement in sufficient time to get the other replaced, she hyper focusing on herself but wants to ask him to give her advice when all she wants to do is moan to him how bad she’s feeling while pretending to everyone else she’s ok. She’s duplicitous and anything he tells her she ignores, she has ignored him his whole life.
“I have to do something, Ive just been in the house all week, doing nothing. Living here is doing my head in. I hate feeling like this, my fucking parents make me feel like this, why can’t they just fuck off and leave me alone. I wish they would just go. F@cking Cu%t, f@cking cu%t, f@cking cu%t, what do I do, what do I do, what do I do?”
Wandering like undead sheep into the abyss,
The only clouds dark, unlined,
People happily fall, unaware of their actions, thoughts, consequences.
No yellow hosts of triumphant beauty welcome them there.
No stars will shine to guide the way, just highly polished pieces of faeces rolled in glitter,
Pretending to be stars,
Pretending to be something they are not,
Toxic shiny plastic squares fall away as they dance with you.
Polluting the vacuous souls
No bliss, no solitude, no pensive mood,
You’re just left with the stains they leave,
Stains that don’t come out..
I have a dog, he smells like feet & tuna, I don’t know why.
He has an uncanny knack of nagging my husband to distraction, he reads his moods and when he’s vulnerable he makes his move onto the sofa in the space my husband has just vacated, or he stares from across the room, burning eyes piercing your psyche until you do something for him. He doesn’t like being stroked, he doesn’t bark much, he’s ball and sausage obsessed and is selectively deaf & doesn’t like crowds, a bit like my husband, they even have the same coat.
I love him…