𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐆𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐒 ~| 𝘓𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘰 𝘕𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘴

Into Your Arms

~'~

𝐈'𝐦 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝, 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝

𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞, 𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞

𝐎𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐡, 𝐈'𝐦 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭

𝐅𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐈'𝐦 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧'

𝐈 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

TW : SA

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

Cassi

We are born into a world where we are told to be careful.

We grow up learning the rules before we even understand what they mean. Don't walk alone at night. Keep your keys between your fingers. Never leave your drink unattended. Smile, but not too much. Be kind, but not too kind. Be careful, always, because you don't know which man it will be.

They will tell you you are overreacting. They will tell you that not all men are like that. They will roll their eyes, they will scoff, they will ask, "Why do you assume the worst?" As if we have not spent our entire lives being taught that the worst is always a possibility. As if we have not seen the evidence in every headline.

We are told to protect ourselves instead of being told that we should not need protection. Because a man can make a mistake and the world will say, "He is still good," but a woman can be in the wrong place at the wrong time and the world will say, "She should have known better."

And maybe it won't be him. Maybe it won't be the man who holds the door open for you. Maybe it won't be the one who smiles too easily, or the one who calls you beautiful like it is a favor.

Every woman knows the feeling. The quickened step when the street is too empty. The polite laugh at a joke that wasn't funny, trying not to upset the wrong person at the wrong time. It's about the way we are taught, from girlhood, to be careful. To watch what we wear, where we go, what we drink, how we laugh, who we talk to, how much we say.

We are given rules, not safety.

We need feminism because a man in a room full of women is ecstatic, but a woman in a room full of men is terrified.

And maybe it's not terror all the time. Maybe it's just unease. A quiet awareness that never fully leaves you, like a ringing in the ears. A feeling you can't shake when you're alone with a man you don't know, or worse, a man you do. Because how can you tell? That is the terrifying part.

You don't.

If only I had known, I never would have followed him upstairs.

If only I had known, I would not have mistaken charm for kindness, politeness for sincerity. I would not have let the small things slide, the little red flags I pushed down, the way he barely looked at me when I spoke, the way his interest in me was only ever surface level. I would not have let myself be blinded by the attention, by the way he made me feel wanted, even if only for a little while.