I Love Research. I'd Go So Far

May And I Are Sisters. We'll Always Fight, But We'll Always Make Up As Well. That's What Sisters Do: We Argue, We Point Out Each Other's Frailties, Mistakes, And Bad Judgment, We Flash The Insecurities We've Had Since Childhood, And Then We Come Back Together. Until The Next Time.

When I Knew I Couldn't Suffer Another Moment Of Pain, And Tears Fell On My Bloody Bindings, My Mother Spoke Softly Into My Ear, Encouraging Me To Go One More Hour, One More Day, One More Week, Reminding Me Of The Rewards I Would Have If I Carried On A Little Longer. In This Way, She Taught Me How To Endure — Not Just The Physical Trials Of Footbinding And Childbearing But The More Torturous Pain Of The Heart, Mind, And Soul.

While She Is Lovely, We Need To Remember That Her Face Is Not What Distinguishes Her. Her Beauty Is A Reflection Of The Virtue And Talent She Keeps Inside.

All These Types Of Love Come Out Of Duty, Respect, And Gratitude. Most Of Them, As The Women In My County Know, Are Sources Of Sadness, Rupture, And Brutality.

I Am Old Enough To Know Only Too Well My Good And Bad Qualities, Which Were Often One In The Same.