As depressing as that is, that’s not to say that there’s no space for joy; for beauty and connection within our collective femininity. But, we must actively interrogate the source of that joy and question the terms of our connections.
On masculinity
Toxic masculinity – the extreme and damaging manifestation of traditional masculine ideas – poisons the well of connection. It breeds a culture of possessiveness, control and emotional unavailability. Men who have been taught to equate vulnerability with weakness often find themselves unable to form healthy, reciprocal relationships.
You’re a little bit broken, I’m a little bit sad.
You carry the weight of a past that lingers, I hold the remnants of a faded dream.
Perhaps.
I remember – or maybe I only imagine I remember – a time when the air crackled with the possibility of something unexpected.
It seems I was available.
There were no grand narratives or elaborate justifications. I was simply one of a series of choices made with the casualness of flipping through a catalogue. He was a consumer of experience, selecting from the available options.
I think of you
Not as a form, but as a flicker.
On solitude & connection
I’ve actively dated for about a year now, and the men I’ve encountered within this environment and beyond often present a recurring pattern.
I’ve realised I’m grieving.
Grief cannot be passively endured, after all; you have to sit in the eye of its storm and let it destroy you.
On Mr & Mrs Fez
Congratulations, my dear friends. All my love.
On endings, loss and love.
I do, after all, love deeply. It’s a trait I am proud of, and I also understand that it can be dangerous. My emotions are wide open; they live on the surface and caress my skin like well-worn cashmere. They’re soft, gentle and comforting on the surface, but underneath lies a delicate fragility that is ever so easily ripped apart.