I am not a feminazi like the girls who think it’s okay to break a guy’s nose because he said something disrespectful regarding women or their rights. I am not a feminazi, but I am a feminist. And the funny thing about equality of men and women is that seemingly many men don’t see - or don’t want to see? - that inequality still exists. It’s funny because of all the people I spoke to about the topic, it has always been males who said that said that don’t see in which points women are treated differently.. Don’t get me wrong I am thankful for all the things feminism has made possible for me as a female and what kinds of fates the feminists of our history have saved me from. But there are still things in society I can’t accept as the female that I am.
I have never been angry or disappointed with people who are confident about who they are or even just how they look.
I just envy them because they seem to have their lives together and they seem to know where their lives are heading and I am still not so sure about who I really am, who I want to be nor how I want people to perceive my whole being.
It’s like I have always let others decide how I am.
And now I am heading towards an unknown destination without a compass or a map. Hopelessly hopeful.
I actually enjoy looking at pictures of dead animals. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t like to see anyone or any animal suffer. I never did. I don’t enjoy the fact they died or anything like that. I have been vegetarian for almost 7 years now, trying my best to be vegan and I am completely against cruelty towards any living creature. Plus I am not referring to pictures of animals ripped apart or hit by a train or whatever.
I mean those pictures in which you can simply see a bird lying in someone’s hand or on the ground with its eyes closed, things like that. It just shows the peace death can bring to every creature.
And that is a really beautiful thing in my opnion.
There are days like today when I feel such a deep emptiness inside myself that I could easily fall into that black hole that I just don’t know how to fill nor close in any way. It’s that sharp sadness that bites in my eyes and makes them shed their tears all over the hands that are trying to hide their disfunction. I fail to find the ability of explaining the reasons because I might not want to know myself. My arms are starving for a friendly touch, yet I feel so fragile that every touch could easily shatter me. I don’t know how function anymore.