Women are made up of things that make me want to spend a hundred years learning how to love so that I can be better at loving them all.
To The Women
The women who are riddled with fears, but will never allow that fear to hold them back in any way.
I just want to feel like it is okay for me to be the person I am and not someone else. And I want you to feel like it is okay for you to be you, too.
The 18th century’s most successful harlots were fiercely competitive.
This is for the women who live and love boldly, who inspire us, build us, define us, change us.
We’re the invisible ones. When someone walks into a room, their gaze floats right over us. There’s no pause, not even for a fraction of a second. Their breath doesn’t hitch in their throat, their heart doesn’t beat a little faster than before. There’s no change.
The strongest women cry. They weep. They scream. They fight. And it doesn’t make them weak. It doesn’t make them small. It doesn’t make them inferior. No, it makes them warriors. It makes them tough and brave. Because having feelings? Is nothing short of courageous.
They will always see the silver lining in tragedies. They will always see the beauty in pain. They will always find a way to be kind when they’re supposed to be mean. They will always choose kindness even if it’s not reciprocated.
Instead of calling out the unprofessional comments, our society not only empowers these chauvinistic politicians, but also participates in the verbal slaughter.
The Breast Is Best Enthusiast