Today I want to talk about sex.
Disgusting, no shame, no modesty, horrible, burn me at the stake, send me straight to hell.
No, I want to talk about how sex sells; I want to talk about the objectification of women as perpetuated by… women.
Here we go, a bit of real controversy. Time to talk about 2020 feminism.
I’m gonna come out and say it.
Something this depraved is not a product of a loving god.
I’m gonna talk about religion; not just about my religion specifically, so I don’t want anybody in the comments asking me why I’m not condemning ISIS. That ain’t my job, bish. I’m talking about religion generally: the whole concept of God, of divine books, of the afterlife.
I am struggling with religion.
Haram police, look away, because I’m about to reveal something: sometimes I wish I was Atheist. The complete hecking truth is that sometimes I wish that I could believe in nothing. I wish I believed that once we die, we’re just left to rot in the ground and turn into fertiliser because that makes everything so much easier. But I can’t. I wish I could be left to my own devices and know that everything I’m doing is a product of my own decisions and who I’ve grown into, but I can’t. I know that I’m living based on a book, based on a religion that I so strongly believe in that I couldn’t escape if I wanted to. I so strongly believe in it, yet I don’t follow it completely. I hate feeling like I’m scared to die simply because of what happens afterwards. Death itself doesn’t bother me. I’d have probably killed myself a long time ago if it wasn’t a straight ticket to hell, so I guess I gotta thank religion for that.