The gift / The curse

I curse the world for making you a man, for making you believe that you must be strong and strong-willed, that must never cry or love too hard, that success means always having your way, that you are king and already have your way anyway. When I look at you, I see two people playing tug of war. Your innocence against your pride. Your selfishness against your empathy. Your need to give love against your instinct to be left alone. Your fantasies against your reality. A snake eating at its tail, trying to find the end only to find its own head. There is no end to this cycle because you have been conditioned to believe a fallacy: that you are not in control, that deep down you are sick and twisted, and your life should be a facade to mask that darkness. Boys will be boys. They take. They conceal. They keep to themselves. They are the beginning and the end. Boys don't have to be boys. The choice is always yours.