I think there’s a lost generation of men that were raised to expect girls to behave a certain way and now they find it hard to adapt. I know boys who truly love me but don’t know how to show it the way that satisfies my newfound sense of self respect. We just didn’t expect this. The greatest act of love they can give is simply to let go.

Every time I choose myself over a man I feel more than the mourning of the feelings. I feel the slow death of an era. The patriarchy had a certain romance to it. However my pragmatic nature always find a way to choose an uncertain reality over an illusion, no matter how beautiful it is. I supposed I have no choice, in order to survive, reality always wins out.