She felt free. Free to continue the course of her life which had become stagnant for the past year. Free from the ennui of mundane routines.
Never again will we entertain this tyranny that wears a thousand divisive masks but is always a scared and greed-scarred child-man hiding behind a curtain.
I’ve been ogled at, cat-called, and groped in ways that left me feeling small, ugly, icky, angry, uncool, too sensitive. I think it’s enough to say, #MeToo.
Stripped of the things that damaged them -- jealousy and the rage that ensued -- they were free to be vulnerable once more. Lying there naked, the sincerity underpinning the relationship that had once allowed it to flourish was palpable.
Forgiveness is for the forgiver more than it is for the one being forgiven, because you’re the one who carries the weight of the hurt and the anger. You’re the one who is eaten up by it. You’re the one who remains a victim, and the one left feeling powerless and helpless.
I am in awe of every vision. I bask in the passion of every caress. Every bit of air I breathe is a godsend.