The moment you see something with your own eyes and feel injustice with all your senses, you cross an inner border, you know you can’t go back from there.
Let me be an uncivilized woman then, untamed and feral with wild hair and shining eyes. Let me be unkempt, roaming free where the wind takes me and my soul urges me to soar.
We continue to want the same thing from this individual, not realizing that after a while, we don’t enjoy it, and maybe we never did, yet we still need it. The moments of comfort and bliss are fleeting. A feeling of emptiness prevails.