self sovereignty
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There was an agreement once. Older than the people who signed it. Older than the beds they shared, the children they raised, the names carved into courthouse paper. No one remembers writing it. That was the clever part. It passed from hand to hand without ink, disguised as love. The masculine would provide. The feminine…
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There comes a point where you stop trying to teach grown adults how to feel. You cannot hand someone emotional intelligence like a book and expect them to read it. You cannot bleed insight into someone who prefers reaction over reflection. That work is theirs. Always was. The moment you understand that, your energy comes…
