A Collection of Spectacles

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all the men i know are feeble and weak.

i wish for. fuck it. i long for. someone strong enough to micro manage every aspect of my life. which verges on controling. which teeters on abuse.

[perched upon. hands wrapped firmly around the throat. count backwards from now till the time it takes to reach that hightened point. see when you do and the wrists are finally loosened it’s like taking your first breath again. it’s like being birthed. in reverse]

from time to time i think that there’s something inherently wrong with me

however sometimes i’m guilty of forcing it. i’m sure part of me makes things worse. i’m sure built in me is an aspect that says

“you’re going to take a plane?

well, i’ll walk.

just to make things harder.

i’ll force myself to suffer.”

but i’m not delving into sapphics quite yet.

                         ******

i’ve been reading a lot of existentialist feminism 

psychoanalytic feminism from beauvoir and the french lately.

roles are not exactly defined. at the same time there should not be cries out for ambiguity from both genders a murking of the waters. interesting. i’m trying to sort things out.

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