“When I was little, I thought love was about red roses and expensive dinners.. Truth is, love is giving her half your fries when she said she wasn’t hungry. It’s waking up at 4am to her snoring and refraining from shoving her off the bed. It’s talking in accents just for shits, and trying to embarrass one another in public. It’s going on adventures, and making fun of each other. It’s stupid fights and memorable make ups. Love isn’t pretty and romantic.. Love is just stumbling through life with your best friend.”
i bleed each month to help make humankind a possibility. my womb is home to the divine. a source of life for our species. whether i choose to create or not. but very few times it is seen that way. in older civilizations this blood was considered holy. in some it still is. but a majority of people. societies. and communities shun this natural process. some are more comfortable with the pornification of women. the sexualization of women. the violence and degradation of women than this. they cannot be bothered to express their disgust about all that. but will be angered and bothered by this. we menstruate and they see it as dirty. attention seeking. sick. a burden. as if this process is less natural than breathing. as if it is not a bridge between this universe and the last. as if this process is not love. labour. life. selfless and strikingly beautiful.
