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I was thinking why I would want to be a man.

The following is the sequence of my thoughts as they bloomed in mind.

.~.

The only reason I’d want to be a man is to write poetry for a woman. Although I can and do write poetry for women, the passion would be very different if I were a man, the heart of a man feeling cannot be the same experience I have as a woman.

But wait, why would I degrade the meaning of poetry to praise just another human being? 

Maybe it’s not poetry. Maybe it’s appreciating female beauty in general. Of course women may praise other women’s beauty but to be completely infatuated by another woman’s beauty may be considered a strong sign of homosexuality. So there’s that.

Maybe the reason I’d want to be a man is to walk freely in the streets without my incessant anxiety and fear that I might be harassed, kidnapped, and/or raped. But somehow that reason, although fully valid, doesn’t satisfy my mind to desire another state of being.

If it’s not poetry or freedom, I don’t know why I would want to be a man. I dislike all the responsibilities, roles, and components of manhood so why would I want to be a man?

The thing is, if I was a man I’d probably be a sex maniac. I just think so. I wonder if all men are secretly sex maniacs. And they don’t have to be the psychopathic Patrick Bateman kind, but the kind who’s just obsessed and continually consumed by the idea or act of sex.

But wait. Aren’t we all, at some point, sex maniacs? Men and women alike? I’m not sure.

I guess I’m stuck with my female state of being until possible future reincarnation then.

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