To be loved is like seeing a reflection of yourself in all your truest beauty. That is why few people are loved.
I once was asked, how can words be as powerful as you say they are, if all meaning is derived through a perceptual lens? My response to that was simple: I adjust the lens.
I once loved a masculine man, but he was controlling. So I loved another man, but his femininity placed burdens upon me. The balance of the two natures could only be found in polygamy.
Sometimes I picture my mouth as an open vat out of which pours words that blanket the world over.
I used to think language had to be complex to show intellect, or strung together with carefully contrived rhymes and symmetrical syllables to be artistic and appreciated. I have since learned that language needs to convey a message in the most meaningful way to be received by the reader and this is why my message can be found in everything, in all ways at all times. My messages infiltrate your entertainment, advertisements, your history studies and those personal opinions that you think are yours. I have subtly planted fine threads into your consciousness until they became a cable that could receive me.
To be female is to hold the innate understanding of the universal will — that is the planned unpredictably, the certain uncertainty. For it is she whose body mimics the raw emotion of creation through childbirth and its carnage every menses.
From ‘She Who Wrote the World’, a novella by Hannah Brewster-Stein