Suicide Doors

If you are the average female between the ages of 18-24, you’ve heard this line from one of your girlfriends: “I’m over it.” Over it. Dunzo. Done. Some variation of that wording. And, well, if you haven’t heard it from a friend, just watch a little bit of America’s favorite television show, Jersey Shore. Then you will hear the “sweetest bitch you’ll ever meet” aka Sammi, say she’s done with Ronnie…about 100 times. (note: I am going to continue to make a Jersey Shore reference, as pathetic as that is. If you do not watch the show, hit up http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jersey_Shore_(TV_series. Or you can discontinue reading. But, that would be stupid because this blog is awesome.)

Sammi got a lot of backlash from her fellow bronze-covered roomies as well as girls everywhere who called her some unmentionable names. Let’s face it: she was an idiot. Ronnie destroyed her property, called her every name in the book, and constantly defecated on her, only to be forgiven usually 24 hours later.

And, while it’s easy to see Sammi’s idiocy, her tactics aren’t that dissimilar from what so many of us ladies do everyday. We’re constantly battling our heads and our hearts; what we should do and what we want to do…and trust, those two things are in conflict a lot. There have been many times when I’ve told myself it was time to stop hanging out with a person, stop putting up with somebody’s bull…and then a week later, I’m in their apartment and then in their room and then…well, you know how that story ends.

I actually wrote about this awhile ago. Here’s a little bit of poetry for that ass.

 And, how much of the blame do you even really deserve? After all, I’m the one who had the nerve and now I’m Chris Stokes style getting served. “I’m not looking for a relationship.” Yet, I keep coming back for more and Russian Roulette is more risky than the game before yet somehow my favorite pair of black panties keeps ending up on your floor.

The question is posed in my poetic flow: how much of the blame does the guy deserve? The answer: after the first time he messes up and you stumble back to him in a love drunk stupor, absolutely none. If he screws up again and again, you have to be willing to swallow the pill and take full responsibility for what happens. By going back to a situation you’re unhappy with, whether it’s a screwed up ex or a hookup that has run its course or that guy who just wants to be friends, you are putting the ball in his court. But, at the same time, you’re putting the gun in your hand and getting ready to self-destruct. Whoa, that was morbid. But, sometimes I gotta be morbid to drive the point home.

Listen, women are amazing. That’s why I write this blog because women are amazing and I write this for those women (s/o to my male followers, too, though.) This blog is empowerment and wit and power. It’s about embracing your inner biatch and taking control of the love in your life, whether that’s romantic love or friends or family or whatever. (Did Free Love just get a mission statement? Whoa, now.) So, yes, women are amazing. But, we do some of the dumbest shit I have ever seen. The only redeeming thing is that when a woman is done, when she’s really given it her all and decides to close the door and keep walking, oh my god is she done. She is out of there like a bat out of hell and she is never, ever, coming back.

So, be that woman. Be done. You don’t have to shoot yourself 5 times before you learn. You can walk away without the self-induced scars. You smart cookie, you.

Love freely,

tY

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