Oh my gosh people, be nice to your waiter/waitress, it’s not their fault that your food is cold or if it’s under cooked. Be nice to the cashiers who are still training and can’t ring up your items as quickly as you want. If a stranger smiles and says hello to you, smile and say hello back! It’s just common courtesy, I don’t understand why people have to be so rude.
I guess being needed is almost as good as being loved. Maybe better.
When you grow up as a girl, the world tells you the things that you are supposed to be: emotional, loving, beautiful, wanted. And then when you are those things, the world tells you they are inferior: illogical, weak, vain, empty. The world teaches you that the way you exist in it is disgusting — you watch boys cringe backward in your dorm room when you talk about your period, blue water pretending to be blood in a maxi pad commercial. It is little things, and it is constant. In a food court in a mall, after you go to the gynecologist for the first time, you and your friend talk about how much it hurts, and over her shoulder you watch two boys your age turn to look at you and wrinkle their noses: the reality of your life is impolite to talk about. The world says that you don’t have a right to the space you occupy, any place with men in it is not yours, you and your body exist only as far as what men want to do with it. At fifteen, you find fifteen-year-old boys you have never met somehow believe you should bend your body to their will. At almost thirty, you find fifteen-year-old boys you have never met still somehow believe you should bend your body to their will. They are children. They are children.
Eventually you forgive people for not knowing about you the things you’ve spent your life keeping from them.