“You’re good for a girl!”
As if the scrapes on my hands were by throwing a tantrum of a missed landing. As if the bruises on my knees are from allowing myself to bend at the will of those around me who feel I don’t belong. As if the trickling blood is a colored tear. “You’re good for a girl!” As if being smaller in stature makes me as inexperienced as a wobbly kid on their first board. As if my supposed fragility is expected to be proven right when things don’t go my way. As if I’m expected to acknowledge that there’s only so far I’ll go to succeed. “You’re good for a girl!” Where the first thing I feel is annoyance at the words and then wonder if it was meant to be insulting or if it was truly thought to be something I’d find praise in. If the words were meant to be sincere and not as biting as it could be. As a person that usually sees nothing but the good in others I can’t help but pause all because “you’re good for a girl,” is not actually a complement.
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About Me
Loves anything red. Rock music, playing the guitar, drawing, writing, tattoos, and sports are some of my interests and hobbies. I like to laugh, I like to think I'm funny. I talk a lot...just a warning. Archives
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