What light. So breaks. Such east. Very sun. Wow, Juliet.
What Romeo. Such why. Very rose. Still rose.
Very balcony. Such climb.
Much love. So Propose. Wow, marriage.
Very Tybalt. Much stab. What do?
Such exile. Very Mantua. Much sad.
So, priest? Much sleeping. Wow, tomb.
Much poison. Very stab. Wow, so dead.
My mom just told me you’re not a woman until you get blood on nearly every pair of pants you love. I was like, “what if you don’t have periods?” And she said “I didn’t say it had to be your own.”
I thought this was going to be cissexist and I was pleasantly surprised.