We’re all supposed to look like some sort of ornate sculptures full of prose and secret wisdom.

The difference is what we’re made of. They tell ladies to be made of glass; as delicate as they are enigmatic like a china doll. Men, they say, should be made of steel; as strong as they are full of intent and ambition, like a new locomotive steaming ahead and made of clean lines ready to tear through any obstacle.

But i cant help feeling this expectation makes us all trains made of glass, desperate to hold it together while being everything we are expected to.