My Inner Monologue

Sam's Inner Monologue...

I love it when he’s with me
  Do I really?
 I love him holding me, wanting me, kissing me
 My toes get all wrigglely
 
 I feel good in myself, confidence rises I feel pure
 Something changes – I get calm
  Are you really sure
 I love being with him
 I get him
 All…
 Kinda hot
  A bit grim
  Isn’t it
 umm
 You what
  Isn’t that
 Stop I need this
 When everything is wrong I can text and feel
 In his sheets
 Warmth and fingernails and love and comfort
 It’s like I’m safe
 He protects me
 I’m covered

 You know it’s not right
 It’s not what you want
 You’re falling low and it’s not love
 It’s like you’re sinking deeper into the pond
 You can’t breathe and there’re weeds round your neck

It’s not comfort you need
 You can’t live your whole life in this disconnect
 It’s better to be alone than lie to yourself like-

 I’m not lying it’s truth
 If I feel good about something
 And I need to feel good about something
 If I feel good about something isn’t that better than not
 
 
 It’s not what you need
 And it’s making it worse
 It’s not yours when you do this
 It’s theirs
 Yourself belongs to THEM when you do this

 Maybe sometimes. But not always.
 I’m allowed to enjoy something and not have it mean the whole world.
 It’s honesty
 And it’s okay to be honest like that
 But this is nice. This is safe. This is fun.
 
 Fuck that actually it never fucking does
 It doesn’t belong to anyone but me
 My actions can’t ever change that
 Categorically can’t ever change that
 
 There are no weeds round my neck I have total control
 Total freedom
 There is not dark disconnect
 No big black hole
 I’m not lying to myself I’m indulging myself
 Can’t that be it all?

 Surely you realise the language you’re using
 Pure, protects
 Comfort and disconnect
 This doesn’t say freedom to me
 This doesn’t say happy
 You know what it does say?
 “I’m a victim of the patriarchy”
 

 Maybe.
 Probably.
 But aren’t we all?
 What’s the difference between this and choosing
 Not to be 100% completely and utterly fucking appalled
 That once again
 Women are being stamped on
 Trodden on
 Victims of
 Britain’s ongoing public humiliation of our gender
 Facilitation of disgust at our achievements.
 
 Where was the outrage when May banned our vigil?
 Where was the warfare when Belly was spat on?
 Where was the compassion when our women died from diseases
 Men were cured of within an instant.
 
 
 I like feeling good about this.

Words: Sam Cooke

Image Credit: Sam Cooke