“You do know that men need us more than we need them.”
My teacher reveals this secret with electric eye contact, a secret that if known throughout the Earth would shake the crumbly foundations all society stands on. We sit in a circle of sisterhood, of sharing wisdom, pain and experience, as if they aren’t the same thing.
I trace my lips with a carrot stick, it oddly soothes me as I digest this thought.
I think of all the men in my life, those that have been, those that are here and those that are yet to come, and I finally see it.
I see it!
I think of all the women too.
I see it!
I haven’t needed anyone, I’ve just wanted them. There’s very little I need, I realise. Everyone in my life is carefully selected.
I sit on my meticulously made bed at 7:46 pm 26th of May.
I’ve spent the evening in laze, scrubbed serum into my skin, bathed in patchouli incense, tidied shoes away from the floor, read the Alchemist with the same excitement 6-year-old me had reading The Twits, I am just about to do a Tarot reading
and it hit me! It truly hit me that I’m on the path of mastering
The Art of The Self.
I realise that I am more than happy for every evening for the rest of my life to be spent by myself,
For no one’s company makes me feel as in tune with the universe
And so utterly at home,
As my own does.
I am warm, I am whole, I am complete.
And I’ve decided that I will never cry over a boy again.
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