i can and i will

My mother tells me that she's always there for me whilst she’s heading out the door. 

She won't call me for the next 3 weeks and I have no idea where she is.

My father tells me he loves me, at the same time he hits me again.

I’m supposed to  love them.
I do love them. 
I should know that they love me. 
They love me.

I’m sorry if I tell you that I like you and then not call you for three days.

I’m sorry if I bite you until you bleed while we’re kissing. 

I’m sorry if i have a hard time believing you that you love me, 
because those words have lost all their meaning for me.

If they loved me, they wouldn’t treat me that way. 

If they loved me, they would listen and not shout. 

If they loved me, they wouldn’t hurt me and make me cry.

'i love you' means, it's okay to hurt me, because they mean well.

'i love you' means, that i'm scared to hear those words, because now every stab wound is just a hickey .
'i love you' means, they're not abusing me, they're family and this is what we do.

'i love you' means they said the three magical words, now fuck off and stop whining.

But they are not the bad ones. They buy me gifts. 

They are not the enemy. They joke around.

They are not abusive, because they promised that they love me.

I’m not saying that you don’t love me, but I’m not sure if you do. 

I don’t know what loving someone means, I don’t know what it’s supposed to feel like if you take away the pain.

I’m sorry, if I can’t say it back, because the word tastes bitter in my mouth.

I’m sorry, if my ‘I love you’s sound like ‘take care’ and ‘I miss you’, and 

I’m sorry, but please,  don’t tell me that you love me, but say that you’ll be kind to me.

Don't romanticise starring on your phone, waiting for his answer for hours and then trying to figure out what his "K“ means.

Don’t romanticise a man who only comes over to fuck (with) you, who only thinks about you when he’s horny or a man who likes your body more than your mind.

Don’t romanticise a guy, who doesn’t know what he wants, who keeps changing his mind and attitude, someone who would risk hurting you.

Don’t romanticise someone who’s just trying, the one who keeps telling you stuff, but never acts on it.

Romanticise men who answer as soon as they can and who are straightforward with you.

Romanticise the guy, who visitis you, builds a pillow fort and cuddles you, when you’re on your period, moody and just wanna be held.

Romaticise someone, who respects that you're not in the mood and doesn’t mind actually just watching a movie together.

Romanticise a guy, who you can laugh with during sex.

Romaticise the guy, who's not afraid of fighting with you, but of losing you, the guy who tells you that he loves you even though you know that he’s angry with you.

Romanticise the man, who thinks you’re the most beautiful girl in you’re lazy sunday clothing, with no make-up and unwashed hair.

Romaticise the guy, who shares things with you, his taste in music, favorite book, feelings, thoughts and underwear.

Romanticise the one who’s not afraid to love you.

I didnt want to write this. 

And bear in mind, that i'm the one who even wrote a love poem about the postman once, just because he smiled at me.
But now i'm doing it, even though everything i write too much about, tends to fall apart.
I'm already falling- every day i fall for you.
Every day that I talk to you or even just about you, I fall in love with you once again.

Don’t tell anyone, but there’s a fucking romantic deep inside of me (not just because i ate him) and I'm not just talking about fucking on rose petals with candles on the bedside table -
I’m speaking of love letters and diary entries with just your name written down 2849 times.

I dig the way you laugh (about my jokes),
I’m into your smell, your taste and - oh my god your tongue,
I’m attracted to your voice and your words and everything about your mouth and what comes out of it,

And also you’re fucking hot.
But you haven’t burned me yet.
Still, I’m on fire, because I want you.
Now and tomorrow and probably even next week.

Everyone before you spoke to me on some level, but you speak to me in every way.
Even the stupid stuff you say, makes me feel some kind of way,
even if you imitate me and say something “mean” and this horrible feeling hits me for just a second, before I realise that you’re joking, is precious to me and I wouldn’t want to give that up for anything in the world.

I did long term stupid things for temporary happiness,

Started a life-long war, for 5 minutes of peace,

Cut off my leg because I got a bruise on my foot,

Cut off my hair because I was too lazy to brush it,

Spent the night with you, in you, around you,

even though I should have just endured the company of loneliness and melancholia.

Instead I had a good time with bad memories.

You left in the morning, I was already gone by midnight.

I washed your smell out of my sheets and my hair,

but I couldn’t get rid of what you put inside me.

It’s over for you, but it’ll never be over for me,

you got over me, on top of me, but I’ll get never over it.

My eyes are wet and my wounds are fresh, like dewdrops on flower petals,

My hands sore from holding on to yours, they’re slippery,

like your tongue when we kissed,

first in my mouth, between my lips, and out again,

behind your teeth and walls of silence, never to be seen again,

out of my sight, now you’re just in my mind all the time again,

lost hands, lost touch, just lost and never found again.

I want to be able to go out in public at any hour of the day and not fear for my life or worse, 

my dignity.

I’m over shutting my mouth and being quiet, just because im scared someone could punish me for raising my voice.

Im over shrinking and bending, so that I will fit into your body, even though you came out of mine. 

Im over walking out of your way and standing in a corner, so that you don’t have to walk in my shadow.

Im tired of excuses and explanations, of people lecturing me about what i'm able to do, where my female appearence restricts me and what impulses and desires other human beings won't control.

I’m angry about my mother for telling me, that I should dress differently, walk faster and never leave the well-lit path, and even that wont stop me from discovering the dark side of this society.

I’m even angrier, because she feels the need to tell me this, beccause she just wants me to be okay and not in danger and not as stupid as she has once been and 

I’m the angriest, because I get it.

And I don’t want to get it. 

I don’t want to be a part of the rape culture, to question my appearance, because me simply existing could get me in life-threatening trouble.

Me wearing a dress might be an invitiation to strangers to take it off.

Me just minding my own business could be interpreted as ‘hey give me attention and comments’ 

And me just breathing, might be the only thing I need to do, to get raped.

I don’t want to hide and cover up who I am so that I might have a chance of surviving.

I don’t want to justify my idea of freedom and expression, 

because someone's idea of freedom is walking around, touching private areas of others,

and the only thing he expresses is his wish to fuck me.

I don’t get why it's my fault, that someone else commits a crime.

I don’t understand, why its my responsibility to keep him from hurting me.

I don’t know, why it’s me, why everything’s wrong with me, when actually, 

everything’s wrong with him, and he’s the only one who should (be) change(d). 

Tell me what it’s like to be me,
Tell me how safe it is to leave the house alone at night, to meet up with strangers,
how I’m a coward for not putting myself in danger for you.

Tell me that I’m dumb for drinking a little bit too much in a club,
to wear something a bit more revealing than you’re comfortable with,
tell me how I’m supposed to feel, where I’m able to go and where my safe spaces are.

Tell me how easy it is for me, because apparently every guy wants to have sex with me, tell me how great online dating must be for me, because I get 1000  messages every day, tell me how it’s so comfortable to be a woman nowadays with feminism and all those gentlemen with their fedoras out there,who are concerned for my well-being.

Tell me that it doesnt make sense how i take nude pictures but don't want everyone to see me naked, tell me that I’m a bad person for putting my naked body on the internet,
tell me I’m a bitch because I love myself more than I love you,
tell me I’m arrogant because I’m learning to accept my body the way it is.

Tell me what I should look like, how to style my hair,where to shave,
to smile even though I don’t feel like it,
print out the same photoshopped, emotionless face 27398 times and put it every where for me to look at it and feel awful just so that I buy your products,
tell me how big my boobs should be, how imperfect my body is and how I need to fix it to please men, come on - put the fantasies of strangers above my self-esteem and my health.

Tell me how I should behave or speak  because of my genitals, 
judge women by their genitals, 
of course you decide who’s allowed to call themself a woman, 
please talk about our genitals without our consent, 
touch us, judge us, just never leave us alone.

Tell me that I’m “one of the boys”, for liking certain things and disliking others,
tell me how I’m so much better and different than other girls, 
when we’re all wonderful and you’re a dickhead for using us against each other.
Feel sorry for me, because I’m realistic and not romantic, because I believe in temporary good times and not in forever-til-death-tears-us-apart.

Tell me to chill,when I’m passionate about something or fighting for our rights, 
tell me to meet up for Netflix and chill and be angry when I don’t want to have sex with you, but eat chips and pizza and watch grey's anatomy,
tell me at the same time how stupid I am for assuming that every guy just wants that one thing from me.
Come over in the middle of the night for Netflix and chill and be surprised when I want to have sex with you, patronize me, assume my needs and wishes or life choices because of my gender.

Tell me how I should feel about men, how feminism is not important anymore or how I should be grateful for not getting raped all the time even though I wear short dresses and I’m out after dark. 
Tell me that I should be ashamed because I like to flirt and be touched, 
how I see a different guy every weekend and kiss more girls than you ever will.
Tell me that it’s my duty to have sex with you again, because I said yes that one time, how I’m not allowed to say no and withdraw, 
Act like it's weird that I’ll punch you if you touch me without my consent, and how I don’t enjoy catcalling, because I actually should be flattered for getting attention.

Tell me that I need to have children, with how many people or when I should be performing sexual acts, what i'm allowed to show or talk about with other people and what i want to keep to myself -  tell me with whom I'm supposed to share my body.

Tell me that I need to stay thin, need to wear make-up and dress up to be worth anything, tell me I’m not allowed to enjoy marvel or computer games, 
call me a fake geek girl, a slut, a prude, a whore, a nun, your baby, your princess or your other half, because I’m not whole on my own.

Tell me what it's like to be a woman. 

We’re all longing for something, but nobody seems to be able to give it to us. 

No matter if it’s sex, intimacy, someone to just listen to us, someone to love, someone who will accept us, someone who shares our interests – it’s never enough or it's too much or the wrong person, the wrong time, or just not quite right.

I'm single.
I’m also intelligent, i know i'm talented in one way or another, funny as hell and fuck it, I can be charming and sweet if I want to, aswell.
I might not be everyone’s cup of tea, but I know that I’m pretty in certain angles and lighting and my figure is about average.

I’m not very insecure anymore, I’m getting more and more comfortable with my own body, I’ve been in therapy for 5 years now and my meds are working, so  I’m not a trainwreck or a ticking timebomb anymore, I haven’t quit studying (yet), I have a few hobbies that I could talk hours about, I know what I want in life and kinda how to get it, and all in all I think that I could be quite a catch.
But the thing is, to have a relationship, an affair or even just a one-night-stand, you need at least two people. And that’s where the problem starts.

My biggest problem are not the rejections, or the uncomfortable first meetings, forever waiting if (s)he writes back, the sound of my phone that's starting to sound a lot like crushing hearts, hopes and dreams, the time and thoughts you invest in someone and then you realize that you actually don't have anything in common, the fact that even when you're two sides of the same coin you have no guarantee that it will work out, the sudden break-ups with just one ‘pling’ of my phone, the short-term-things and how fast everyone moves on, how nobody’s willing or able to concentrate on just one person, how we’re afraid of trusting someone, how we don't give us time to get to know them, how we give up before we even tried - i got used to all of that and being honest, i'm not better or even different than all those people out there. 

My problem is, that I don’t know what my problem is and that’s what really freaks me out.

I know that there’s a lot wrong with me, or at least not quite right, I know that I’m not always happy and adventurous, I know that I’m made of more darkness than light, I know that I enjoy twisted humour and horror movies too much, I haven’t seen much of the world or read all the classic books and don’t have the biggest boobs or the cutest nose or long beautiful hair or big eyes or perfect teeth or… well, I could continue doing this and list everything that sucks about me,but that won’t get me or you anywhere.
The thing is, i keep getting reminded of my flaws and i'm so much more aware of them since i started using dating apps.

Dating apps were supposed to make me feel good about myself, I should be happy, putting myself out there, meeting nice, interesting people - and not sitting on the bathroom floor, shaving my legs, because I read that someone hates hairy legs on women or standing in front of the mirror and thinking about how long I could go without eating, if I spent my money on cosmetic surgery instead.

You’re not supposed to anxiously stare on your phone and ask yourself if he likes you or not, you should not question your worth, just because a stranger from the internet didn’t respond to your “hey, how are you? :) ”

Self-confidence is not how many matches you have on tinder, how often you get laid or how many hearts you broke last week.
Happiness is not seeing a different guy every night, jumping from relationship to relationship and being proud of yourself for not writing her again, even though you fantasized about her for 2 weeks straight now.

Love,kissing, sex, orgasms - It's just chemical stuff happening in your brain, it's not magical, it's just hormones.
And actually it's not that important, we need water, food, oxygen, money maybe, but not actually human touch and love to survive. Or do we?

I think we all are secretly hoping to suddenly match that one person, who is – without a doubt – our perfect match and you’ll talk shortly and then meet in person and fall madly in love and everything's perfect and all your friends are jealous.

We are all secretly hoping, that we get the acknowledgement that we think we deserve, we want respect and compliments and inspiring conversations and beautiful people and talked-through nights and sweet kisses and passionate sex and a happy ending.

We are all secretly hoping that an algorithm will save us from loneliness, spare us from the hard and time-consuming work that is dating, from going out and kissing frogs until we find a prince. The process of dating, the getting to know someone and all the first times  have become a necessary evil,we're tired of asking the same questions over and over again, of small talk and the scary unknown, we want to skip all of that and get right to the good bit.

While we’re installing the app, we’re all hoping for the day we can delete it again.

Everything's about finding someone else's holes where we could put our genitals in or hands we could pour our soul into.
But there should be so much more.

Someone told me yesterday, after we talked for hours about online dating apps and our experiences with them, that i should write a book about my adventures.

And that’s of course a terrible idea. 

I’m 21 years old, irregularly using dating apps for about a year now, and my experience is by far not enough to write a whole book about it.

So I decided to write a blog post* instead.

We all heard of them and i know that most of you are active users, too. 
I've seen you on there, don't even try to lie about that.

I'm talking about tinder, okcupid, lovoo, grindr...

I gained a lot of friends this year

"You’re really funny"

"I like the things you write"

"You have such a unique way to see things"

"You’re really empathetic, thanks for listening"

"I love your sarcasm"

"I think you’re pretty"

"You’re hot as fuck"

"Your eyes are beautiful"

"I’m in love with your butt"

"I enjoy kissing you"

"I like the way you feel"

"I love your taste"

"You’re great and everything, 

but there’s this other girl…

let’s just be friends"

Friendship with beneftis

Heartbreak with extra heartbreak,

take-away please.

How do you tell someone that you like them?

You just say it, right?
“I like you.”

And they may smile and accept it and carry on with their lives or just say
“Thanks, you’re cute as well”

and you just want to stop the world, grab their shoulders and shake them and shout
“NO YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND, I LIKE YOU, I WANT TO BE PART OF YOUR LIFE, OF YOUR HEART, OF YOUR FUTURE,I WANT TO BE IN YOUR MIND ALL DAY AND IN YOUR BED ALL NIGHT I LIKE YOU, I LIKE EVERY PART OF YOU,I WANT YOU AND EVERYTHING YOU EVER COULD BE, I WANT US”

But you just smile and nod and carry on with your life 

and never mention anything like that ever again.

How do you know if someone likes you?

But you just smile and nod and carry on with your life, forever wondering 

but never daring to ask.

Friday nights would suck, if you wouldn’t stay up with me just to listen to me crying,even though you have to get up early the next day and I’m upset about nothing and everything, just like always.

Long-distance always sucks, but it’s okay with you, because we still talk everyday about everything and it doesn’t feel like your're miles away. And I don’t mean this in a cheesy way, because I hate nothing more than that, just in a it’s-nice-that-you-call-me-just-to-hear-what-I’ve-been-up-to-way.

Of all the human beings I’ve met in this century you’re one of the few I can actually see myself still talking to in a few years from now on, not just a brief affair, not just small talk for months and then silence, but something real.

Right now i don’t know what i want or need or how i could get it, but i feel like you’re one of the people that are good for me and who would be able to give me whatever I need, as soon as I know what that is, or even just stand by me as long as I’m still figuring it out.

I’m not good at this. There are a lot of things I’m able to do, but this is hard. I’m not sure why, maybe because i’m generally not good with emotions and I’m scared of feeling too much as well as I’m scared of feeling not the right things or never anything at all.

And i don’t know why it's hard to put this in words, maybe because i think that any kind of relationship is always fragile and this one is especially fragile because I put my whole head in it and even a bit of my heart and I’m afraid you’ll drop it, or that I might fuck it up, and please, let’s not ruin it.

Now let’s never talk about this ever again.

We are all replaceable

Out there is someone who is just as funny as you are, 

just as kind, 

just as great to hang out with, 

but prettier 

and maybe a better cook.

Out there is someone who is better in bed than you are, 

better at blowing dicks, 

probably even richer 

and with bigger tits.

Out there is someone who can not only listen, 

but talk and reply, 

someone who can sing their heart out 

and eat girls out 

better than you do 

and someone who bakes cookies at 2am 

instead of crying in the shower.

Out there is someone who smells just like you,
but sweeter,

less like desperation

or cheap perfume,

who has brighter eyes,

shinier hair 

and softer skin than you.

Out there are millions of people 

who are better than you in every single way,

even better at just existing, 

and the funny thing is, 

out there is at least one person, 

who’s even a better you.

Just as happy as you are, 

you laugh the same way, 

about the same thing, 

your thighs feel the same way 

when they are wrapped around him.

There will always come someone else along, 

someone better, 

someone new.

You are just ordinary 

and we are all replaceable.

But so is he.

We’re not nothing

We don’t lie about it, 

because it’s nothing, 

it’s a few hours, 

a handful of body parts,

dirty water going down the drain 

two bottles of bodily fluids,

awkward eye contact 

and a bitter after taste.

We don’t label it, 

it’s laziness, 

it’s work, 

it’s comfortable, 

it’s exhausting, 

it’s calming, 

it’s tempting, 

it’s disappointing, 

it’s exiting, 

it’s fun, hope and regrets.

We don’t enjoy each other, 

your taste in movies is shit, 

my taste in men sucks as well, 

we’re getting over a heartbreak, 

or just trying to fall in love with ourselves, 

we’re here because it makes us feel more alive, 

makes that heart beat again, 

restarts as a fistful of flesh and feelings, 

not just a clock ticking in the chest, 

and it pumps hot blood through the veins again, 

instead of lukewarm water.

We don’t care about each other, 

we get bored and annoyed, 

we’re waiting for that one message, 

we’re counting down hours, 

we can’t wait to escape.

We don’t treat each other as friends, 

because we aren’t, 

we’re nothing more and nothing less, 

not friends, 

not even nothing.