why are his hands supposed to be calloused and war-torn when my hands do just as much work?
why am i supposed to be the one that goes trembling into his arms when i can see how he’s the one that needs to be held for his mind is crumbling and the guilt of his deeds are eating him away?
why does he need to fight demons for me when he is incapable of fighting against his own?
when did love become a construct of one saving the other?
when did the fairer beings become the weaker beings?
when did the word ‘woman’ start becoming equivalent to 'fragile’?
why has love only been talked of when it is between the agile and the fragile?
why is that love great?
and what about equality?
— tanvi r