I have been told severally that my opinions and arguments are too ideal to be real. The point is that I can’t help it because I don’t condone to things that do not simply make sense. This post is about the last argument I had with my friends about the role of a woman in the home.
I’d see it if you show it to me. I’d hear it if you tell it to me. I’d taste it if you feed me. My nerves will race and let me know when you touch me. My senses tell me a story, they reveal the truth, but sometimes I lie about those truths.
Angela, tell me how would you feel if I told your words cannot penetrate through the clouds to move me? You cut yourself up daily and move around with blood everywhere and you barely notice . How can you
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