Bring it on.
In small does of course and lots of nicotine, calories and intoxicant. Its the fear of the fear that has a shadow I shrink from like bacteria in a petrie dish of bleach. Praying there is that one percent of me that makes it through, turning the bleach to soup.
From containment to niche.
The fear that maybe they're right about the physical differneces between women and men mean different social positions is right. Different sexual apparatus, different sexual positions. I've been skimming for a mention of homosexuality. Haven't found it yet but I'm not dipping my toes in that much.
The fear that by chosing to study I'm volunteering for head rape because its not what I'm made for. I'm going against my biological needs. Thats why I'm misrable.
So the business, if what developed in that enviroment, no need for justice or voice or compensation. Darwinism as in 'shit happens get used to it'. I'm sure there are more positive interpretations than that.
But the compentsation was in the arguing. Taking them all to task and exposing them as wanting, as irrational by their own and any other reasonable perspective. Feeling like I'm right and whatever they did made no difference. At the end of the day the violence wins, of course. But the next day starts with a bit more hope when the first thing you remember is answering back, coherently and acutely.
He rang. Presumably, to tell me he got the email, I don't know I was through here and had rang off by the time I got there. I didn't call him back because I chickened out. Maybe he couldn't read the attatchement. I'm looking for written words back.