i don't. yet.

Today, a coloured 24 year old woman, broke down crying in front of me.

Earlier, we had found ourself with a group of individuals, discussing the various ways in which we found it frustrating to be found desirable by men of our shared skin colour. (See: this). This discussion eventually constantly broke apart and evolved, into discussions on how hard it was to be loved, desired, and chosen by someone, to belong with someone.

And there's probably a lot of dumb cultural baggage, that even reaffirms that as something we should desire, or need, to fulfill ourselves, and our individual lives. Maybe it's a load of Barbie and Ken, wedding bullshit.

Or maybe, we're all weird, and no one wants to talk about it - except on the internet, where creepiness is embraced and shaped in the form of memes (that we all "get.") Do you realize that, world? We. all. get. memes. But we all keep talking to each other, like we're strangers introducing a fake facade for the first time.

And it's scary, and lonely, because objectively, we're all the same and should not feel alone, but don't talk about anything, so do feel alone (thank god for friends). And objectively, there's nothing less lonely then cuddles, (because, it really takes two), let alone, cuddles with someone who's overall personality excites and enriches your daily existence. (again, thank god for friends). but you can't cuddle and be enriched by friends. i mean, you can, but then we as a society start calling it dating. so it's not really a friendship thing anymore, you know?

"there are rules," we the same, say, naturalize, and reaffirm. and then whine about.

did anyone ever read that short story? sodom and gomorrah? down fell the towers, of babylon. and then we complained. complain.

so that 24 year old, lovely, woman, cried. and having known not that much about her - in that moment, i discovered she and i had the same weekend. the same weekend and sleepless nights, wondering if there was something wrong with us, if we were worth anything, or if we were just plain objectifiable (because that's how self-critical, girls get, when boys don't give them the right attention?) and our respective weekends of emotional roller coasters, had been spent with an individual understanding, that we were alone, in this.

we thought we were alone.

but we are all the same.

be honest, or you'll never really get the following songs: *



*i know, i don't. yet.