We teach girls to shrink themselves
To make themselves smaller
We say to girls
“You can have ambition
But not too much
You should aim to be successful
But not too successful
Otherwise you will threaten the man”
Because I am female
I am expected to aspire to marriage
I am expected to make my life choices
Always keeping in mind that
Marriage is the most important
Now marriage can be a source of
Joy and love and mutual support
But why do we teach girls to aspire to marriage
And we don’t teach boys the same?
We raise girls to each other as competitors
Not for jobs or for accomplishments
Which I think can be a good thing
But for the attention of men
We teach girls that they cannot be sexual beings
In the way that boys are
Feminist: the person who believes in the social
Political, and economic equality of the sexes
—  Chimamanda Ngozi Adiche’s Narration in Beyonce’s ***Flawless

“Are you paying attention?

Good. This is going to go very quickly now. If you are not listening carefully, you will miss things. Important things. You’re writing some of this down? That’s good.

I will not pause, I will not repeat myself and you will not interrupt me. If you ask me a question, I’ll ignore it. You think that because you’re sitting where you are, and I am sitting where I am, that you are in control of what is about to happen. You’re mistaken. I am in control, because I know things that you do not know.

What I will need from you now is a commitment, you will listen closely, and you will not judge me.

When I am finished - when I have told you that I am finished - you are free to think whatever you like. But until then, you will trust that while this story will be hard for you to understand, everything I am saying I am saying for a reason. 

If you cannot commit to this, then please leave the room. That’s right, you’re the one who’s free to go. But if you choose to stay, if you choose to listen, remember this: if things happen that you do not like, you chose to be here. 

What happens from this moment forward is not my responsibility: it’s yours. 

This will go quite fast now.

And that is the last time I will repeat myself. Pay attention.”

The Imitation Game (2014)

So in my theatre class we had to write a monologue and perform it, so one guy named Chris wrote this. Absolutely beautiful.

The Shrekoning
“Shall I compare thee to the ogrelord
Though art more godly and don’t disrespect
Rough winds shake and bring forth the onion horde
If you show doubt and no love then you’ll get shrekt
Sometimes too hot the breath of Shrek is not
And often his green complexion is love
And every swamp from far away may rot
By a chance Shrek may appear from above
But Shrek’s forever love will never fade
When Shrek flies I accure delight
They laugh at me but Shrek comes to my aid
I just need to pray and I’ll feel thy might
When he gets mad Shrek gets into a strife
It’s okay, Shrek is love, Shrek is life.”


“I am a millennial. Generation Y; born between the birth of AIDS and 9/11, give or take. They call us the global generation. We are known for our entitlement and narcissism. Some say it’s because we’re the first generation where every kid gets a trophy just for showing up. Others think it’s because social media allows us to post when we fart or have a sandwich for all the world to see. But it seems our one defining trait is a numbness to the world. An indifference to suffering.

I know I did anything I could to not feel; sex, drugs, booze. Just take away the pain. Take away my mother and my asshole father and the press and all the boys I loved who wouldn’t love me back. Hell, I was gang raped and two days later I was back in class like nothing had ever happened. I mean, that must have hurt like hell, right? Most people never get over stuff like that and I was like, “Let’s go get Jamba juice!”

I would give everything I have or will ever have just to feel pain again; to hurt. Thank God for Fiona and her herb garden. One advantage of being kind of dead is that you don’t have to sweat warning labels. There was this one brown liquid that I thought made my nipples tingle for a second but I think it was psychosematic because I polished off the rest of it and didn’t feel shit. I tried every eye of nute and wing of fly until I found something that made me not look like Marilyn Manson anymore.

And that’s the rub of all this, isn’t it? I can’t feel shit. I can’t feel anything. We think that pain is the worst feeling. It isn’t. How could anything be worse than this eternal silence inside of me.

I use to not eat for days or eat like crazy then stick my fingers down my throat. Now no matter how much I binge I can’t fill this hole inside me.

I can’t take it anymore. I think I’m going batshit. I need to do something.“

People have scars in all sorts of unexpected places. Like secret road maps of their personal histories, diagrams of all of their old wounds. Most of our old wounds heal, leaving nothing behind but a scar. But some of them, don’t.

Some wounds, we carry with us everywhere… and though the cut is long gone, the pain still lingers.

What’s worse? New wounds, which are so horribly painful, or old wounds, which should have healed years ago, and never did? Maybe our old wounds teach us something. They remind us where we’ve been, and what we’ve overcome. They teach us lessons about what to avoid in the future. That’s what we like to think.

But that’s not the way it is, is it? Some things we just have to learn over and over and over… again.

—  Greys Anatomy