looneeluvgouda-blog - Tumblr blog

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It is our duty as feminists to protect and respect women in Hijabs

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My Superpower

Starting to think my super power is getting myself all worked up about things I cannot change, before 9AM.

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I do not understand this “male privilege" bullshit.

What. Fucking. Privileges. Do. Men. Have.???????

Name them. I swear, I challenge you to name these “male privileges" and be able to prove them. 

Come on, I fucking dare you. 

Name them!

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You think it's easy

You think I don't want to run to you

But there are mountains

And there are doors that we can't walk through

I know you're wondering why

Because we're able to be

Just you and me

Within these walls

But when we go outside

You're going to wake up and see that it was hopeless after all

No one can rewrite the stars

How can you say you'll be mine?

Everything keeps us apart

And I'm not the one you were meant to find

It's not up to you

It's not up to me

When everyone tells us what we can be

How can we rewrite the stars?

Say that the world can be ours

Tonight

You know I want you

It's not a secret I try to hide

But I can't have you

We're bound to break and my hands are tied

“Rewrite the Stars”, The Greastest Showman

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Misdirected Passions

If you were to ask me what I wanted in life, it would be that I want to make the world better.  I want to get a masters, maybe a PhD, learn how to use psychological methods to foster empathy and compassion and to create programs for children, adults, anyone and everyone that teach these the way we teach our kids science or math.  

And yet, I’m sitting here writing about it instead of doing it.  I’m writing stories about lost passion and am so wholly absorbed in my own mind that I’m not sure how I will ever accomplish my goals of helping someone else expand THEIR mind.  I can write.  I’m not bad, but I can’t even seem to finish a little one page statement about this thing that I want to do.  This thing that I need to do to feel accomplished. 

Perhaps it’s cause no one has ever really pushed me.  No one has ever expected much of me because I’ve always underachieved until recently.  I did well for awhile in college when I was confronted with interesting topics and the ability to excel through writing about them.  Then I graduated and stopped practicing excellence.  I stopped writing.

I can’t expect someone to push me.  I am the only one who can do that.  I am the only one who knows what I want out of life, what I truly want, and I am the only one who will do what it takes to get me there.  Sure, there are people I can’t do it without, but they are waiting for me to take the lead.  Why is it that I’m so uncomfortable taking the lead in my own life, but have no trouble doing so when it’s outside of my own little bubble of experience?  

We should all lead by example.  Telling others to take control is hypocritical when I myself cannot take control of my own life.  I must take control, reach my goals, and THEN perhaps I will be justified in creating such programs.  Then I can help people learn the things that we do not explicitly teach in our society. Things that should be an essential part of education.

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Self-Destruction

You believed in me and I began to want you. I craved your approval, your admiration, you. You stoked a slow burning fire with your words and your ideas and your deep commitment to making the world and everything in it a better place. Your passion inspired me. I wanted to feel it, up close. I wanted you to turn that fire into a raging inferno.

I began to burn hotter as we grew closer. You were almost near enough to touch. I fed on your ideas and passions and you inspired me to want more, to do more, to BE more. I gave you everything I could, everything that was appropriate to give until suddenly, there you were. Close enough to touch.

Then I did, and you touched back, and we burned so bright for such a short time. Until they saw the inferno we had created and they sought to quench it.

“It’s too big, too beautiful. Someone might see it. Someone might seek to stoke their own fire with ideas and passion and we cannot allow that.”

So they doused us with water. They drenched us in reprimands and fearmongering and institutional rules. I pulled back, because I knew that while I had not been created in fire, you had. While I would not perish in the torrential downpour, you would. They could accept us if we could control the heat of our fire. They could accept us as smaller, individual fires.

It was when we came together and threatened to burn it all down, that they could not accept. They feared the beautiful things that might grow from the ashes.

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Stand Shoulder 2 Shoulder

Because even if I said, “no, get off me” ten different times, he didn’t listen. Because even if I screamed it at him, he balked, and said he would never do anything to hurt me. Because even when I used all my strength to physically push him away, he got mad and asked why I thought he would do anything I wasn’t okay with. Because even when I told him, “I’m not okay with this”, he asked why I didn’t care about him. Because he was my boyfriend. Because he told me no one would ever treat me better. Because he told me he’d never do anything to hurt me. Because he told me he wanted it. Because my friends were his friends. Because I worried what they’d think. Because I didn’t feel I had the authority to label him or what he did. Because I still talk to him. Because I still can’t tell him what he did. Because I can’t tell him that what he can’t remember is wrong. Because he “got help” for the alcohol abuse. Because he said he’d never do what he thinks I’m hinting at, no matter how drunk he was. Because I can still feel his dead weight on me and I just wanted it to go away. Because I couldn’t say what he did. Because I was told in school that testimony was the weakest form of evidence. Because I couldn’t be brave. Because I was scared to face the doubt.