I am the ocean. You are fascinated by my depth and my emptiness, but you are too afraid to plunge in deep to learn more about me. You float in the shallows and say you love my salty tears, you love my waves, you love the beautiful shells I churn out. You are aware there are monsters deep within me, but you make no attempt to try and find them; you make no attempt to see them face-to-face. You are happy in your ignorance, and I wrap myself around you as you frolic in the beauty you see at my surface and ignore the horrors you know are there. I kiss you like I kiss the shoreline, pulling away but always rushing back. You ignore the fact that I swallow the light every night, and I am controlled by the ever-changing moon. You do not know everything about me, but maybe that’s for the best. Knowledge would not be power in this case; knowledge would suck you into the inky depths of my madness and cause you to drown. I am the ocean and you are simply a tourist; you are not an explorer. I do not blame you for this one bit.
Run for the euphoria, the fitter body, the healthier life, the stronger legs, the easier staircases, the sound mind, the accomplishments, the failures, the easy runs, the hard runs, the fartleks, the LSDs, the 5k, the 8 mile mornings, the running buddies, the cheers, the water afterward, the pasta, the bread, and the running life. But most importantly, run for yourself.
Rape is one of the most terrible crimes on earth. And it happens every few minutes. The problem with groups who deal with rape is that they try to educate women about how to defend themselves. What really needs to be done is teaching men not to rape. Go to the source and start there.
Kurt Cobain, talking about the meaning of the song “Polly” (via enchan-t)