petals of void

i complain about how everyone seems to be searching for their other half, or clinging to the person they believe is.

i complain as if i were different.

and that’s the funny part.

because i’m the one who aches when nobody chooses me.

the one who notices every absence, every silence,bevery empty space where affection could have been.

i mourn not being wanted,nwhile building walls no one can cross.

i long to be found, while making myself impossible to reach.

what a strange thing to be:

rolling my eyes at the hunger in others, only to discover it lives in me too.

maybe i’m not angry at them.

I had a conversation with a situationship/friend-with-benefits that left a bad taste in my mouth.

I told him I was going to celebrate one of my best friend’s birthdays, and his first response was: “the next member of our threesome.” I said “ew,” because it made me uncomfortable. He replied that my friend is beautiful, and I shouldn’t react like that.

So I said: “Imagine me saying something like that about your sister.” And he told me that his “man brain” can care for a female friend, but still not see her 100% as a sister — because there’s always the possibility of fucking her. He added that he’s had (or would have) sex with most of his female friends. That the only ones he wouldn’t sleep with are the ones he finds too unattractive.

And I thought… So this is how some men really think about their friends?

That women are either “fuckable” or not worth it?

That affection and sexual desire are always blurred unless someone doesn’t “make the cut”?

Me, with my bisexual woman brain, can see people as beautiful, even sexy, and still not want to sleep with them. I can have friends — close, loving, emotionally deep friendships — without the need to sexualize them.

Attraction doesn’t have to ruin or define everything.

Not every connection has to be sexual.

Not every body exists to serve your desire.

Not every woman needs to be seen as a potential body to consume.

You can admire someone’s beauty without turning them into a target.

And the part that really stayed with me: I asked him — hypothetically — if he ever started dating my best friend, would he tell her that we had something in the past. He said no. He wouldn’t tell her.

But I would.

Because silence can also be betrayal. If she ever found out from someone else, I know she’d feel deceived. And I’d rather lose him as a friend than lose her trust.

That conversation made it painfully clear: He sees women as potential sex objects. If they don’t fit that role, he dismisses them. If they do, he objectifies them. And somewhere in that game, honesty is optional.

I’m tired of normalizing this as “just how men are.”

I’m tired of swallowing that disappointment like it’s something I should expect.

y puedo responderles con “amo ser como las demás.”

Ser asociada con otras mujeres no me ofende,

me honra.

No quiero halagos que se construyen pisando a otras.

Si para admirarme tienes que desvalorizar a otras mujeres,

no es un cumplido: es misoginia.

Yo no me separo de las demás.

y puedo responderles con “amo ser como las demás.”

Ser asociada con otras mujeres no me ofende,

me honra.

No quiero halagos que se construyen pisando a otras.

Si para admirarme tienes que desvalorizar a otras mujeres,

no es un cumplido: es misoginia.

Yo no me separo de las demás.

no significa admirar todo lo que haga cualquier mujer.

Las malas decisiones no tienen género,

son parte de lo humano.

Pero cuando se generaliza a las mujeres,

casi nunca es para comprenderlas,

sino para pisotearlas, compararlas,

ponerlas a competir entre sí

y así justificar quién merece valor y quién no.

Y eso es lo que no apoyo.

No rechazo la crítica,

rechazo el desprecio disfrazado de opinión.

No me separo de las mujeres para parecer “mejor”,