Finding a job is hard. I've never been told how awesome I am at so many things but I'm too awesome at them to get paid to be awesome. I feel like Lester Burnham. Minus the pedophilia. Maybe a little, I just don't know anymore.
I don’t know how I made it through all these years of existence without knowing what a seduction novel was, or let alone that such a genre existed. After a long conversation with my American Literature professor about rational and wayward love, I have realized that my life is a seduction novel. However, I have reversed the roles, and I, the woman, am the seducer that creeps into the hearts of men, twisting my fingers through their manes and beards, cautiously tracing their outlines, curving into impossible dimensions. And as I intentionally avoid their sex, they are reduced to boys, begging mother for a cookie with their milk.
I'm not sure what I mean when I read over this.
No comments:
Post a Comment