“Being born a woman is an awful tragedy. Yes, my consuming desire to mingle with road crews, sailors and soldiers, bar room regulars—to be a part of a scene, anonymous, listening, recording —all is spoiled by the fact that I am a girl, a female always in danger of assault and battery. My consuming interest in men and their lives is often misconstrued as a desire to seduce them, or as an invitation to intimacy. Yet, God, I want to talk to everybody I can as deeply as I can. I want to be able to sleep in an open field, to travel west, to walk freely at night.”
with you, i picked my outfit so we’d match. with you, it was 6 a.m. bus rides. with you, it was falling asleep on your shoulder. with you, it was falling in love. with you, it was holding hands. with you, it was tears of laughter. with you, it was falling faster than we knew what to do. so fast, that with you, it became fighting: don’t you see me? don’t you hear me? don’t you want me to be happy? with you, it was peace again. with you, we had a new beginning, with you, i thought we’d start over. with you, we never actually started over. with you, everything lingered, the love, the lust, the frustration; the frustration! with you, i cried tears of anger. with you, i prayed for better days. with you, i wanted feel loved. what happened the easy days? then one day, without you, i found me. and with me, i said fuck this bullshit. with me, i valued my worth, with me, i cried tears of joy, of nostalgia, of gratitude. with me, i saw the world around me. with me, i created my own magic. the magic i always had within me. with me, i grew strong and without you, i am here. and without you, i am finding where i’m supposed to be.
