We all hold our beliefs deep within

Our minds and lodged in our hearts.

What I find evil, maybe considered

A norm in your life and vice versa.

We were all raised differently with various

Backgrounds and tongues.

Some of us were raised with violence as a

Norm and have grown desensitized to hate.

Some of us were raised by praying on

Our knees, so we take each verse of the Bible

To heart and may even try to force our

Religious views on others without meaning

To cause harm.

Some of us were born in poverty,

Falling asleep with growling stomachs,

Dry throats, and shivering bodies.

Some of us were born in luxury,

Falling asleep on satin sheets,

Fur duvets, and hand-clapping lights.

We were all born to love and hate

Each other without reason.

We were all born to assume we are right,

Enough to force our beliefs on others,

But whatever you are and what you

Believe in, know we will all die with

Red blood.

Never force your beliefs on others

Or assume you know what's best for them.

Grab a woman from this century,

Cover her mouth with duct tape

And strip her from her rights

As she tries to resist the unjustified

Strip of humane as she no longer

Becomes a human in the eyes of

Society. Silence and make her

Your slave, as long as she refuses

To identify as a feminist, she does

Not deserve the right to revolt

And fight for her rights. I am

A woman and it would be pretty stupid

To deny my own rights. I believe in the

Social, political, and economic equality

Of the sexes. I am not afraid to say the

F-word, why are you? Feminism is

Not a dirty word. Because of women

Who persisted and challenged the norms

Of society, we are a little more free, but not

Quiet there. Not where I know we can be.

People claim there are more black folks

In prison than white folks. They are not

Wrong. Black people get sentenced longer

Than white people for committing the same

Crime.

Racism is not dead.

It is rooted into our minds

By our court systems.

I blame no one but ourselves

For not doing our own

Research and believing the lies

Of the oppressors.

Her English stinks.

My French, como sé dice, pee-yew.

She eats snail.

She bikes like a turtle.

I need rap to workout and fuck.

She literally still jams to Mick Jagger like it's new music.

Are these people serious?

They watch cartoons like it's regular TV.

They smile for sugar and laugh about bread.

Cheese is dessert and sex partners are friends.

If there's anything we share, it's love.

If there's anything we can't, it's a tab.

She sort of insisted, one time, we go halfsy.

Third-ish date.

What a shitshow.

The front of house came out to see if everybody was alright which was clearly some kind of Michelin Star talk for "is there a problem here?

"Cause if there's a problem here, we can take this outside."

We don't even speak the same language.

"You don't even speak the same langguagggge."

"I know, Ma."

"I'm jussayin, Jorge."

Maybe going Dutch is a thing here.

We're closer to Holland, after all.

If it is though--meaning girls don't mind paying their way through dates, and half of this city has constellation marks from the Michelin Tire mascot--maybe I shouldn't settle down?

Paris is a town for lovers.

New things.

Except tripe.

That shit ain't fish.

And nowhere in Wikipedia is it listed as an aphrodisiac.

Whatever, I'm in Montreal next week and I'm totally getting the cheese fries.

Sorry.

Poutine.

Heartbreak is a mystery all on its own. It shakes you up and spits you out, wounded and bleeding, yet you yearn for more. Like a marionette mastered by a quivering heart, you follow the lead of what gave you pain hoping it would be different the following time, but it never is.

Madly, we expect the outcome to be different, because in an ideal world our heart would never have to break. Our hearts would not believe in unrequited love, and joyfully we would all adore one another and love would spread beyond the earth and into the galaxy.

Love is socially accepted, but it should not be. It’s insanity at its finest, deceiving the masses into thinking love is a healthy addiction. Love only drives us to delusion, restricting us from expressing ourselves freely, simply to impress the person we are enamored with. When did the “be yourself” mantra escape the doctrine of love?

The downward spiral from elation to devastation as a result of heartbreak would be no more if love were no longer a natural disaster, hurting everyone who fell hard from the epidemic. A disease with no cure except the need for more. Love is selfish and unbearable, desensitizing the heart and making true love slowly diminish from the mainstream. Heartbreak is the new goal, because modern love is no longer satisfying.