i want to start this by saying fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. the first one: because when i was born, i was given this body. i have learned to love and accept what i used to be ashamed of, by doing this i have taken ownership, and responsibility over my physical self which are two things that i as a human being shouldn't really have to learn but im glad i did. next comes embracing my sexuality. MY sexuality. it is not for you. it is not for anyone else but myself and who i choose to share it with. when you talk about another persons body in a sexual manner it is a way for you to hold power over them, it is a way for you to feel better about yourself and that is just wrong. fuck you number two: to be with another person is a gift. you grow together like ivy on a wall growing not only up, but in. giving every part of ourselves to each other without a second thought and forgetting how to keep somethings just for yourself. one day you are with this person who you want to give everything you have to and you can't because it's been taken from you, imagine that? no, you can't because it hasn't happened to you. boys take girls bodies without using their hands or even their bodies sometimes but by using their words; they turn something we cherish, the only thing we will ever really completely have and turn it into something that isn't our own. and i know boys talk about girls and girls talk about boys and boys catcall girls and girls talk about boys and boys touch girls without permission and girls talk about boys and boys take pictures of girls and girls talk about boys and boys take advantage of girls and girls talk about boys. but boys will be boys right? why aren't boys held accountable for their actions just like the rest of us? fuck you number three: teenage girls everywhere are taught that love is putting our mental and emotional safety aside for his demands is normal and healthy. this is how abusive relationships spark. we are attracted to the warmth but choose to ignore the burn marks left on our skin. we live in this imaginary house built together on secrets, honesty, lust, and compassion and i never want to leave but the door is locked and now i feel trapped and i can't live with the thought of knowing that was your intention all along. i accept the roses you gave to me but ignore the thorns, i am trapped in this garden of guilt for doing things i have not even done. did you not feel the blood when you held my hand or did you mistake it for tears of your own? now..the final fuck you; fuck you number four. FUCK YOU for not having to be afraid of being violated or sexualized by a stranger or a friend or a partner, a parent, but being the one who instils that fear in me. fuck you for making me think, speak, act, walk, dress etc. in defense mechanism. fuck you for teaching me how to love my body after feeling like it wasn't my own in the first place. loving myself after trying to love you was like washing my body in cold, clean, water; finally finding relief from burns that never deserved a place on my skin. trusting someone else was like untangling roots that start deep in the earth and climb up my legs, around my inner thigh, and under my skirt at our lunch table. roots that make you wake up in a cold sweat because they have wrapped themselves around corners of my mind i liked to pretend did not exist. fuck. you.