#truth bomb
it is an insult to women all over the world and throughout history to suggest they are oppressed because of gender identity. no one rapes someone’s gender identity. they rape and oppress based on biological sex. to contest this is ludicrous.
"You’re implying that I haven’t used myself very well?“
"Well, I can’t judge. A man, of course, has to go through a lot more, and I’ve been sheltered.”
“Oh, don’t stall, please, Clara,” Amory interrupted; “but do talk about me a little, won’t you?”
“Surely, I’d adore to.” She didn’t smile.
"That’s sweet of you. First answer some questions. Am I painfully conceited?“
"Well—no, you have tremendous vanity, but it’ll amuse the people who notice its preponderance.”
“You’re really humble at heart. You sink to the third hell of depression when you think you’ve been slighted. In fact, you haven’t much self-respect.”
“Centre of target twice, Clara. How do you do it? You never let me say a word.”
“Of course not—I can never judge a man while he’s talking. But I’m not through; the reason you have so little real self-confidence, even though you gravely announce to the occasional philistine that you think you’re a genius, is that you’ve attributed all sorts of atrocious faults to yourself and are trying to live up to them. For instance, you’re always saying that you are a slave to high-balls.”
“And you say you’re a weak character, that you’ve no will.”
“Not a bit of will—I’m a slave to my emotions, to my likes, to my hatred of boredom, to most of my desires——”
“You are not!” She brought one little fist down onto the other. “You’re a slave, a bound helpless slave to one thing in the world, your imagination.”
“You certainly interest me. If this isn’t boring you, go on.”
“I notice that when you want to stay over an extra day from college you go about it in a sure way. You never decide at first while the merits of going or staying are fairly clear in your mind. You let your imagination shinny on the side of your desires for a few hours, and then you decide. Naturally your imagination, after a little freedom, thinks up a million reasons why you should stay, so your decision when it comes isn’t true. It’s biassed.”
“Yes,” objected Amory, “but isn’t it lack of will-power to let my imagination shinny on the wrong side?”
“My dear boy, there’s your big mistake. This has nothing to do with will-power; that’s a crazy, useless word, anyway; you lack judgment—the judgment to decide at once when you know your imagination will play you false, given half a chance.”
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Yeah, how can you be a Sanzou without a damn sutra?? Drop.
Why are feelings so hard for me to feel
They are hard for me to feel because I was never shown how.
I was shown how to pretend they don’t exist, to drown them with drinks, to choke on my tears instead of letting them flow.
Master of ignoring my feelings.
The longer that I ignore them the bigger they get and the bigger they get the harder it becomes to hold back the tears begging to come out of my eyes
And I cry
I don’t know how to cry
I shut my eyes
And clench my teeth
Until my mouth rips itself open and the wails break out of their cages
And I cry
The tears run down my cheeks
Like it’s a fucking race
First one to the floor wins.
I don’t feel better after I cry
I feel empty and alone
And left with nothing inside where the tears used to hide.
I don’t know how to cry
It’s uncomfortable and foreign to me
I only cry when I am alone
Driving down the freeway in the dark
Always feels like the right time
The music is almost loud enough to drown my gasping for breath.
To drown my grasping at death.
I don’t know why I cry…
This would Def be interesting.
