Wednesday, October 8, 2014

I am sorry

I am sorry,
because I don't have the body type your son and society deserve.
I am sorry I love opinions and have some of my own.
I am sorry I enjoy the company of the opposite sex even though it isn't part of my culture.
I am sorry I am studying to be something more than just a demure wife.
I am sorry I curse because it isn't what a woman is supposed to do.
I am sorry I didn't live up to your standards of beauty.
I am sorry I decided to live and explore the world on my own.
I am sorry I wear the clothes I do. I know, I am always asking for it.
I am sorry I don't fit into any mould of what a good girl is supposed to be.
I am sorry I can't cook and won't be able to take care of your son, who doesn't know how to cook either.
I am sorry that my family forced me to study, work and travel. They must be the worst.

Most of all, I am sorry for you. For assuming there is just one 'type' of woman. For feeding your son the confidence that he can look like a goat but will still get a wife who is thin, loving, faithful, quiet and submissive. I feel sorry that my parents, as confident as they are, still fear I might be alone forever because you told them so. I am sorry I don't fit in with your requirements.

Actually, I am not sorry. Because, it has taken me years to finally love myself. To realise what I want to do and who I want to be. I don't want to be a Victoria Secret model. I want to be happy and healthy and I don't need a man to approve of my ways for me to be either. I am happy eating, studying, working, reading, dancing, playing with puppies, seeing the world and learning about it.
I feel sorry for myself, that I tried so hard to please you and your needs.

But, not anymore.

So, fuck you! I am not sorry. 

Friday, April 18, 2014

Follow you

The phone moved almost to the edge of the table. 
His face was a silhouette in that fluorescent glow.
Was this love? She didn't know.
But it was fun. 

"Where are you?"His phone beeped.
He watched her move.
She was beautiful. 

"What are you doing in a motel?"
The messages didn't stop,
neither did he. 

"I am coming to pick you up. Dad is angry."
She pushed the phone off the table with one hand,
the other was holding on to him. 

It was hot! 
Not just the temperature, 
everything else too. 

The door knocked.
They banged.

The door slammed open. 
He fell off the bed,
but she wasn't done. 

Damned technology ruined everything.
They found out too soon
and he had taken too long.