we often wonder our purpose.

childhood stories, fables, and ideologies were tied to the acceptance of men; would i be picked? would he love me? i am different than anyone, his approval is the golden seal. rooting itself in self acceptance of adulthood.

i find myself mansplaining to those around me, because to be listened to and valued, i had to simplify things. to be accepted as one who can hold conversations of sustenance, for my words to resonate, or hold standing, they had to be simplified to the smallest tier, and now, i find i miss my depth. i see where i lack.

i miss my introspection and depth ranging farther than a moments dialogue.

i understand why i needed to be that way to feel it’s how you rule the world.

as a whole i can’t help but shake we have moved in a direction of simplification desensitization. afraid of the harder thing. on the curve of this period time of self isolation, we have recoiled. to be human comes with fairness, the hard thing does not come easy, but over time the hard thing if not worked on out empathy is less and less removed. we become animals. we lose our depth, our compassion.

history repeats itself. it always has modifications based on evolution. we are in one of those uncertain times. a combination of post isolation coming off the back end of of a pandemic, paraasocial relationships, the increase in AI, minimizing the creativity of organic creativity and processing.

history is gruesome. it feels like it has always been bad. in my opinion, it always has been dystopian, except for a privileged few.

the ones who dream of times their country didn’t look like it does now, never fully absorbed what is and what was.

as the days go on i find the numbers get smaller, become more silent for humanity. to be against the liberties of one becomes coded, it becomes dressed up, and i get

more and more how horror doesn’t happen quickly, or that it happens over night.

it is a slow burn. one that happens so slow the small changes become normal. everyday life begins to fade away, and before we know it, we are far from the stability we once rd resided on.

it has become increasingly difficult for me not to lose hope. not to be cynical.

as time goes i see the world as trying themselves to survive. whether that be to make it through the day, make it in their social lives, continue on to stay sane, and unfortunately, keep their families safe, themselves, have a minute of happiness, and all in all that can look cruel.

the world of man is cruel. it is horrible. growing up i didn’t think i realized that i was a girl. i was just me. and just being me meant i was meat, prepped for the slaughter.

breaking out of the ideology i didn’t want to live in a man’s world meaning fully, i didn’t want a god. i didn’t want to be living in a realm, always hoping a subconscious male being was looking out for me, deep down hoping i was doing right, and subconsciously aligning those i met with that figure. a sentenced trap condemning me to fate i didn’t want to be a part of.

to be transparent, all i know is it doesn’t feel right knowing i can exist and live parallel while the world breeds hate and harm.

which it has always done,

but who am i to stand idle.

if im not writing about this acknowledging it, trying to advocate, what am i doing?

in a world where; sports— a made up game matters more than humanity and inclusion, a genocide is happening and we stand idle, racism is as active as ever, ICE agents are ripping families apart, and womens reproductive health/ autonomy isn’t in their control, meaning—

refusing to be complicit is ones purpose.