Ms.Matchsticks and the Machine

"Have you seen the sky today?" He yelled from the kitchen. Ms.Matchsticks sheepishly pulled on the window curtain to see if she was missing anything.Nah! Nothing. It is still the same blue sky, the green trees, that man urinating near the end of the road. He always cuts her off when she tries to explain to him about her head. But well, now that she is reaching the boiling pit, maybe she needs to remind him once more. So, Ms.Matchstick did. As usual, he went around it.  But, why! Why are women not taken seriously when they try to talk about what's inside them, in their head? Ms.Matchstick always wondered, won't anybody understand triggers anymore.  But, he had a cute butt. I suppose its worth letting him ruin her well being.  He yelled again, ' Hey, why don't you get it when I am serious and when I am joking? '. Ms.Matchsticks wanted to respond, because you are just so bad at it. But, she settled with... " I am sorry, its hard to under...

“Let someone love you just the way you are – as flawed as you might be, as unattractive as you sometimes feel, and as unaccomplished as you think you are. To believe that you must hide all the parts of you that are broken, out of fear that someone else is incapable of loving what is less than perfect, is to believe that sunlight is incapable of entering a broken window and illuminating a dark room.” — Marc Hack Ah, the follies of literature Ms. Matchsticks thought while she read this quote. Clearly, Marc Hack never met brown men. Someone should take them and introduce them to the average Indian male smothered by their mother and trained to believe in the flawless slate of a woman's brain. She was doing all of those thinking while he was telling her how small of a brain she had for not keeping up with his broken promises. After all, why wouldn't he? It's the right bestowed by him, from his mother to make sure the rest of the women in the world would be lucky t...