Yes All Women Are Like That 0030 – Strong Independent Fish-bicycle Don’t Need No Man Femistatist Girlboss Who Loves To Travel Episode II – Contemplating Suicide Because She Can’t Find A Man.
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In this episode we dive deep into Amy Horton’s history. What do we find? The stereotypical alpha widow. Remember in the previous episode when I said that it sounds like someone dumped her?
This tweet says it all.
She found an alpha and she couldn’t keep him.
And there it is. Her descent into madness is fully exposed in her writing. We go backwards through her history and discover a time when she was actually sane.
What happened that pushed her into the abyss? Was it being abandoned by Chad? Was it the plummeting of attention she received while whoring on InstaThot? Was it the agony and broken bones which resulted from slamming into the wall?
We may never know but that don’t stop us from forming theories. Nor does it stop us from laughing at her.
If you have a daughter you should make her read this website when she is 14 then ask her “do you want to be this when you grow up?”
If you have a son you should make him read this site when he is 15 and ask him “do you want to get stuck with a woman like this in your life?”
Amy is here to serve as a warning to boys and an example of what not to do to girls.
Here are some highlights:
She’s a special person, the woman who never had any help. She is strong, independent, and protective of the life she spent so much effort building. This means that loving her – and earning her love – is nothing if not a challenge. It’s not simple, and you will absolutely have to prove yourself before she lets you truly see what’s inside. Put in the work. She is worth every bit of effort you devote to her.
. . . . .
You must work for her because so many who came before you tricked her into opening herself up, only to leave her high and dry at the first sign of difficulty. They never took the time to find out who she is deep down and celebrate it.
. . . . .
Communication will set you both free.
Be patient with her, and you’ll see that what blossoms between you is worth all of your effort.
. . . . .
It was you and me against the world, and that gave me a reason to care. Now I don’t have that. All I have is the gaping hole in my heart that you left behind.
I stay in bed as long as I can in the morning, willing my eyes shut, numbing the memories for a few minutes longer.
. . . . .
I cannot even touch myself anymore without crumbling at the knowledge that I’ll never feel the tender electricity of your embrace again.
. . . . .
If I’m completely honest, I suppose I’m still in denial that you’re no longer mine to love, to hold, and to grow alongside.
I would have done anything for you, but it doesn’t matter.
Please someone tell me when I’ll stop feeling this way so that I can stand it. Because right now, I don’t know how much longer I can.
. . . . .
I already miss you so desperately that the temptation to simply walk up and knock on your door is something that I fight constantly.
. . . . .
Sometimes it’s as if I’m sinking into a chasm of loneliness that I’ve dug on my own, like all I’ve done in my life is fall into one misstep after another.
The problem is that I can’t run away from myself, no matter how hard I try.
. . . . .
Some stupid part of me, deep inside, hopes you come back even though I know you won’t. I am well aware that our relationship had issues brought on by the baggage that both of us have not addressed. I don’t know that you will ever care enough to face and transform yours, and that’s not my problem any longer. As much as I wish you would, it doesn’t matter. You’re not mine anymore and I don’t know if I would even pick you again if I was a healthy, emotionally whole individual.
All that I want from the universe right now is to laugh in your arms again, but I understand that’s the one thing that’ll keep ruining me, so I fight my own deeply ingrained, dysfunctional instincts and I stay away. And yet, still, in spite of myself, I wish that you would come get me and make it all okay.
. . . . .
Your soul and your worth are far too magnificent to keep cooped up in an oppressive prison of heartbreak and regrets. Breathe away the keen sorrow of your attachment. Do your best to think of your tender loss not as a finality, but a way to open yourself up to new possibility.
. . . . .
So breathe – just breathe, let your emotions run their course, and be kind to yourself. You deserve the love that you’ve been giving everyone else. Keep it for yourself for a change. Your beautiful heart deserves nourishment.
. . . . .
It’s three a.m. and all I want to do is sleep. I told myself, tonight will be different. Tonight I will not lie awake until the wee hours of the morning distracting myself until I finally, eventually, exhaust my mind and spirit enough to drift into a weary slumber, tears paving painful trails down my cheeks. Tonight I will be okay.
I was wrong, of course. I can’t shake thoughts of you, no matter how desperately I will myself to do so. It doesn’t matter how many times I remind myself that you’re sleeping peacefully wherever you are, undisturbed by any worries or sadness about losing me. You’re fine, and I’m not, and I cannot force myself to feel differently. Wanting to be okay does not make it so.
I hate myself for hurting, hate myself for caring. Missing you fills the background of every moment, despite my best attempts to shut you out.
. . . . .
I’m done. Once I finally let go of you, the one who I thought was a true match for me, the one who I thought would stay … I won’t do this again. I’ve accepted that finding true love is not in the cards for me, no matter how desperately I yearn for it. Neither of my parents ever captured it and it seems that neither will I, and maybe I won’t be able to stand that. I don’t know. Maybe I’ll finally exit this earth that’s never felt like home to me in the first place. The last little bit of hope I had is unequivocally smashed into oblivion.
The idea of sleeping, never to wake, never to feel another moment of despair, comforts me.
. . . . .
The literal dictionary definition of feminism is “the advocacy of women’s rights on the basis of the equality of the sexes”. That’s it. No matter what anyone says, it’s not about man hating. It’s not about women ruling over men – though honestly, why shouldn’t we get a turn at it? Men have had the power for what feels like eternity. It’s hilarious to me that after all these years of the patriarchy, anyone has the audacity to bristle at the idea of women desiring equality with men. How appalling, indeed.
. . . . .
The best part about displaying my feminism openly is that everyone has an opinion about it. It’s incredible that so many people feel comfortable judging me and telling me who I am based on one facet of my being – and one that is completely inarguable. If anyone can honestly say to me that they do not believe women should be on an equal level with men, I immediately disqualify them as having no relevant input at all. The irony is that this is part of what feminism is all about – fighting the desire of others, particularly men, to assign us their own idea of what a woman should be.
. . . . .
Truthfully, if a person is against feminism – if they really believe that women should not be equal with men – I want absolutely nothing to do with that person.
. . . . .
I am so tired of women being told that we are unreasonable for wanting a good relationship. Standards have slipped so far that we grasp gratefully at the smallest of courtesies from a partner, and yet we are ridiculed as presumptuous when we ask for what we need. I am done. I am done settling for less than what I give. It is not unrealistic to want someone who meets me halfway.
. . . . .
If I sound like I’m angry, I am. We should all be fed up at the societal expectations of us that have dragged on for ages, shifting only in form but not in their function of keeping females down. Creating a wave of change will not be easy. Men are accustomed to the patriarchy, and the force of women beginning to assert their equality does not sit well with them. Many literally do not know how to react, but unfortunately it is often with dismissive and defensive behavior.
. . . . .
I’m so tired of feeling angry.
It’s not that I want to be this way.
. . . . .
I don’t know what I’ve done so wrong. I’m continuously attempting to be kind and loving and mindful. Most of the time, I succeed fairly well, even in my own harshly particular opinion. Over the past several years I’ve completed so much work on myself. My life is full of therapy, yoga, journaling, and meditative time spent outdoors. It seems like no matter what I do, how deeply I search my soul, it’s never quite enough.
So, yes, I’m angry.
. . . . .
Someday someone will come along who understands what you’ve been through and shows you patience. No matter what pitfalls, or struggles, or missteps, somehow they’ll stay. They will keep showing up day in and day out when no one else ever has. You’ll hardly believe that it’s possible. Every time, you assume they’ll run away, but they don’t. They make the decision to continue choosing you even when you are difficult and confusing. That person will show up for you until you finally believe that you’re worthy.
Then you will finally understand what love is supposed to mean.
. . . . .
The best day you’ll ever have is the day that you look in the mirror and understand that the true love of your life is right there, smiling back at you.
It was you all along. You were always enough. The world tricked you into believing otherwise.
You become whole entirely within yourself.
. . . . .
Now that you realize the preciousness of your short time on this earth, you are no longer willing to waste it yearning over romance, regrets, and lost love. Instead you choose, every single day, to appreciate the person you are and the life you possess, right here and now.
You’re the own damn love of your life. And that’s a beautiful thing.
Amy’s online attention whoring:
https://www.instagram.com/siochantalaochra/
https://twitter.com/AmyHorton18
Call it “satire” if that helps you sleep at night. We all know that Men > Women. It’s a biological fact.
Spend your 1,200 Wuhan Bucks on Books by Clarey, Piggott and Cervi my Amazon affiliate link at cls.link/amazon. I will buy this Supergirl figurine so I can objectify women.
Send some commies to Canada. They said they would go if the Trumpenfuhrer was elected President but they are too dumb to figure out Canada is to the north and too poor to get there ’cause they have liberal arts degrees. Commies To Canada.
Bitcoin me bitches and bitchettes. It’s the only crypto-currency that can be used to buy anything.
Dear Amy; I think Supergirl speaks for us all.
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F’kin A.
Solid gold, every last word.
Your prize is a much sought after toilet roll.
Thanks. This woman is insane. When I’ve material this good the result can’t be anything less than gold.
I nearly dropped my coffee when you started reading the stuff she’d written that could have come out of one of Clarey’s books.
Will we ever know how Aaronina became Shrek? Maybe she transitioned?
No shit. That’s what I though as well. Clarey could have written that.
I never saw that coming. (That’s what she said.)
This woman is having a “diary of a madman” moment. She’s sane for just long enough to realize that insanity is the better option. Kek. My Schadenfreude is off the charts.