Like, cute clothes and jewellery is nice, but the price for it is living nearly a week in horrible pain every single fucking month for most of your fucking life, not knowing if it’s just your stupid womb or if you’re actually hungry, occasionally waking up in middle of the night and realizing there’s blood fucking everywhere, and every single morning I wake up and remember that the world is full of people who see me either as a walking fleshlight or a washing machine that can cook.

You can’t even be friendly to (some) men without them immediately jumping into the conclusion that you’re into them. Like, I was offering to lend you a pen, AND THAT DOES NOT FUCKING MEAN THAT I’M WILLING TO LET YOU BETWEEN MY LEGS!