August 31, 2009
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Violet Candle Doom Sonata
My independent feminist nature constantly conflicts with the soft-hearted girl, the one that wants to hold hands and draw hearts on her arm. I am a goddess, a powerful, world-shaking intellectual in frolicking in flowers. The hopeless romantic keeps a small bunch of glitter hearts locked away in a safe place, because the imagery is just far too overdone, but she feels angry that everyone is so reliant on that single image to replace what should be real emotion. Both sides of my psyche feel that real emotion course through my veins. The strong woman reserves her right to fall in love, to have her heart protected, to be herself in a land of imagery, false advertisement. The hopeless romantic is still in awe of the mystery that is love. The strong woman can smell her lover’s hair on his pillow as she writes poetry to the glow of a laptop but will undoubtedly shower him in kisses the moment she sees him.
