Deep Thoughts: Special

special... isn't that a horrible word.

when i was a kid that's the term they used to refer to the retarded kids. they were special.

and woman. that's an even worse word. i think woman, i think pregnancy, reproductive device. i think, married with children. i think, dreams of perfect weddings and want to hurl.

nail polish and mascara and pretty little clothes.

blood in cycles and empty wombs that beckon.

biological treason.

marriage and commitment shrivelling lives.

and by the time the children are old enough, you're left with only the remnants of a happiness you thought you'd possessed. and the realization that it was never within your grasp. not from where you stood then. and certainly not from where you stand now.

so life goes on. special as it is. because you're woman. a man with breasts instead of a penis. the one with the hole instead of the one who fills it.

feminism just isn't what i expected of it.

abd special i could do without.

i'm not saying which is right or wrong. i'm just saying think a while before you decide.


  1. The problem with words is that they have their official meaning, and then they have their connotations. Like "gay" and "fag" and "geek".

    You are special. You are special because you see the world darkly, through a two-way fun-house mirror that makes it all so grotesque. You are special because you can create profound images and sensations with your words when others leave me unmoved. You are special.

    You scream into this dark void and you wonder if anyone is listening.

    I am.

    I tell you, I am. Don't quit. Don't you give up. Be apathetic, be antipathetic, rage at your life, express your thoughts and feelings as only you can. Move me, make me laugh make me cry. Make me worry about you and send metta your way when I meditate. Tell me to fuck off. Ask me what it is I can possibly see in you that is remotely redeeming.

    Just don't give up!


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