I am tired of seeking validation from men only to end up disappointed and in pain, physically and emotionally and mentally.
I want a life full of happiness and love, children and dogs, friends who make me smile and who get me.
I must live a life that makes me happy and feels purposeful; I can’t do that when my thoughts always go back to trying to “find a man” or “trap a man”, though my “trapping” was more on the lines of fucking him so well he’d want to stick around. (See how well that worked out.)
My physical and emotional health are more important than any false hope of marriage, especially because of the fucked-up way people view marriage in this country and in society writ large.
I am no one’s maid. I’m not your cook, your assistant, or your housekeeper.
I am not your therapist.
I am me. And I love me some me. So fuck all the rest of y’all. Im’ma go study and then listen to The Read.
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