This is not PMS. This is not a broken heart. This is not martyrdom. This is a huge FUCK OFF I discovered in a seedy bar or on my couch or in my bed or in the morning haze of school bus chaos or in the cup of a shitty cup of coffee. I found this voice. This truth. And it’s about fucking time it’s talked about.
You know that hippy bitch? That one that says she’s all love & peace & transparency & selflessness? She’s not necessarily the gal who’s wearing tie die panties. Nor the one who is all about crystals and her chakra-awareness. Or the sexually expressive goddess who flaunts her girly parts as the art discoveries they are.
This is about all of those women and more.
This is about a girl quite like me. Quite like you. And I’m tired. We’re tired. We’re fucking spent.
We’re the women who make your lunches and kiss your fucking beautiful faces goodbye in the morning. We’re the gals look the other way when you notice her asses that are a bit more tight than ours. We’re the ones who answer your texts at 2am when you’re drunk and alone. We’re the ones who are there for you when you’re broken up about your crazy girlfriend. We’re the gals who kiss away your insecurities when you feel less than whole. We’re also the friends who patch up your bleeding sores when he hurts you over & over again. And the ones who touch our foreheads to all the horrible pains in your heads.
You know that girl you use? She gives because she believes in love. She believes in saving all that’s fucked in the world through her hugs, her kisses, her love, her ART, her beating heart, her money, her ass, her 2 am answered calls, her borrowed devotion.
Borrowed you ask? Yea. It’s a borrowing of sorts when you take something that doesn’t really belong to you. What you don’t get is she gives because she loves LOVE. She loves and gives and spares and lends and extends whatevever you need – because she needs the same fucking thing. But she won’t say that. She won’t say, ‘I need to be hugged’. She won’t confess the need to hear, ‘You’re beautiful Love’. She won’t beg to hear the words, ‘You are perfect just as you are’. She won’t break and fall apart. She will never tell your secrets. She will never sell you out. She will never try to take credit for your new love. She will never take credit for all the good shit she’s due.
She’s sold her soul to the Devil for YOU. To make you feel better. To kiss your aching soul. To absorb your pain and your demons.
Maybe she’s your Witch. Taking in all your pain in attempts to produce magic.
And what do you give her?
Funny. She’s not looking for payment. But when you’ve found your freedom, happiness, love. Maybe do two things.
Say a fucking thank you to the Gods for Her. And maybe try to never use her Goddess Love more than once. She’s Mortal. She can’t can’t handle giving and giving and giving. You will devour her power of Love.
Say thank you and move on. And when someone needs the same validation of Love, you can return the energy.