Chemical Wedding.

“Question. Would you die for me?”

That is a simple answer and one I can answer quickly. Yes. Yes I would. One hundred times over. If I had to choose between the blood in my veins and you, I would gladly bleed myself dry. Put me at gunpoint, cut open my chest, if it’s for you, I’m dead and gone. Isn’t that what I am doing right now? I am dying slowly for your benefit, slowly at your hands. I am cradling the things you cannot handle and it is killing me. But I welcome it. I welcome every anxiety attack and uncontrolled crying jag. Because I’d rather feel these little pieces of you than nothing at all. That would make me completely dead inside.

“That’s too easy. Would you – would you live for me? Hmmm?”

This is where it gets hard. Would I live for you? Can it be with you? I’d do anything as long as I can be with you on every possible plane. But in order to achieve this, do I have to show you I would do it before you would follow?

“Careful. Do not say this oath thoughtlessly. Desire becomes surrender, surrender becomes power.”

I desire you, in every sense of the word. If I surrender to that desire, does that give me power or does it place me squarely in your hand for you to crush in your fist? You said to me a year ago that maybe you’re worth the wait. I’ve always thought you were worth more than you think you are, but am I okay completely giving myself over to you when I don’t know what you will give me in return?

“Do you want this?”

If by “this” you mean you, that answer is easy. You are inked on my skin, you are the first thing I think of in the morning and last thing I think about before I fall asleep. I see the blue of your eyes in the clearest skies. I see the freckles on your skin in the constellations. I can see so clearly a life with you, where we are separate but equal, giving and taking, existing as our best possible selves. But this is where I struggle. I don’t want to beg you but I know that we can’t exist separately for much longer and I just want you home with me.

“Say it. Say it. Saaaaay it. Prettyprettyprettyprettyprettypretty…”

Please.

“Mmm. God, you’re so…good.”

I’m only good when I’m with you.

I take the plunge and I am reborn. One hundred percent yours. We are both equal and opposite. I was created for you, to better you, to complete you. And I think you’re starting to realise that. I just need to wait for you to jump in after me.

And I know you will. Take your plunge. I’ll be in the boiling acid, choosing you every time.

When Did America Stop Being Great? 9 November 2016

Okay here we go, the ONLY political post you will ever get off of me so be excited.

It’s no secret that I love anything British, French, Australian or Irish (I’m charmed by accents and my second language, okay?). But that doesn’t mean I hate my country. Today, I do. A lot. I have never been more ashamed or embarrassed to be an American.

For someone who has never voted before, this election was a big deal for me. I registered to vote to help keep Trump out of office. I clearly failed but this just means I now have the right to complain about it.  With every lewd comment he made, I kept thinking that there was no way that he could win. As he slagged on and made slurs towards every minority, I assumed the Great American Melting Pot would hinder him from getting the presidency. When he appointed a homophobic creationist as his vice (that’s right – Pence doesn’t believe in evolution), I knew we had enough sane people who wouldn’t stand for that in office. As he bragged about sexual conquests and as more and more women stepped forward, accusing him of assault, I thought that the number of female voters in the US who have been affected by something similar would be enough to stop him.

Oh, I was wrong.

My biggest problem with Trump is not just his blatant hatred and discrimination for blacks, Latinos, Muslims and the LGBTQ community. It is his problem with women. It is the fact that he has allegedly sexually assaulted over ten women and he has just been given one of the most powerful positions in the world. It is the fact that he is threatening my reproductive rights as a female.

I am so pro-choice it’s not even funny. While I don’t think abortion should be used as birth control, I feel very assured knowing that if anything, god forbid, were to happen and I had to make that decision, there are capable, qualified, well-trained people in fully-equipped facilities to take care of me. If Trump tries to eliminate this, we’re going to regress to back-alley, coat hanger abortions which PEOPLE ACTUALLY DIED FROM GETTING. Getting rid of abortion doesn’t eliminate the need for it and there will always be people who have to make that decision.

But the positive side to this, while there are few, is that I voted. I voted for a female presidential candidate – the first of hopefully many. I voted for a female candidate when, less than 100 years ago, women didn’t even have the right to vote. She might not have won last night but the bar has been set and hopefully, this spawns a generation of #NastyWomen who will enter the White House. I am proud to be a Nasty Woman who voted and was part of that 48%.

But if you’re looking for me now, I’ll be sleeping until the racist, rapist cheese puff in a wig is impeached.