After months of writing my way through the pain, a thought suddenly hit me—I was glamorizing suicide by writing about it. At first I tried to brush it off, but anxiety got the best of me. I couldn't get over the idea that I was to blame.
You can be satisfied but not happy, and that's okay. Perhaps if we just focus on finding the meaning of life, we might have a shot at living a fulfilling one.
Perhaps I need to be constantly reminded that whenever bullshit comes knocking on my door, the best revenge is to close my eyes and pretend that it never happened. Or is it?
You see, I think that's the eternal struggle of a creative's mind. I pay attention to the world too much to the point that I always find myself over thinking about everything and becoming highly sensitive when I notice that something is not right.
Being pro-abortion is not about supporting the mere act of taking lives; it's about defending the reproductive rights of women.
These acts of sexism and misogyny need to stop. Only then will women feel that change has truly come.