thoughtsthatwereleftunsaid

[thoughtsthatwereleftunsaid]

I love you so much. I miss you. I'm sorry if I can't be the one for you.

[thoughtsthatwereleftunsaid]

Grief is the only proof that I love and I love well. Love and grief are actually intertwined with each other and as "Akif Kichloo" once wrote, "the opposite of grief is not laughter or happiness or joy. It is love. It is love. It is love."

[thoughtsthatwereleftunsaid]

“Your naked body should only belong to those who fall in love with your naked soul.”

— Charlie Chaplin

[thoughtsthatwereleftunsaid]

Growing up, I've always pretended to hate feminine things. I was taught that femininity is a weakness. I pretended to be masculine. I joined the pink hate train solely because I want to be "not like other girls". I want to display a strong demeanour and be someone people will view as cool. To be the person who'll save the damsel in distress. To be looked upon just like how parents would look at their little boy who's pretending to be a hero with a cape. With eyes full of glistening hope while thinking to themselves, "That's our boy, and someday he'll be our strong hero." But then, growing up made me realise that I'd never be the boy whose flying cape would make the girls scream. I'll never be like the boys whose flashy smiles you would fall for, because I'm like other girls. I'm like other girls who questioned themselves—other girls who hated being feminine, other girls who hated pink, and honestly, I think I love being like other girls.

In the generations of women that lived, maybe somewhere during the Victorian period, some girls hated pink too, hated the idea of dressing up, hated everything about being feminine, but later in their lives, they realised the beauty of being a girl. I, too, was just like them. I hated the idea of me being put on overly flashy dresses, the idea of being conceived as a girl. But later on, I realised how beautiful it was to spin around as my dress flew around. The way the wind would caress my legs, how I would feel like a princess. 

Womanhood is something that is collectively hated by almost all women in every generation,including me. Maybe because we were conceived as someone whose only purpose was to reproduce, someone who's weak, and someone who is always needed to do the house chores. I mean, who would want to be tied down to only doing house chores, right? But there's more to womanhood than being caught under the thumb of those dumb stereotypes. Sometimes, it's all about the hair tie you just bought that you lend to your friends. The makeup brush that was borrowed by your classmates; the cutting of hair at 3 a.m.; the crying while eating your comfort food while watching your comfort show; the giggling and blushing when your crush looked in your direction; the existential dreads while looking up at your ceiling.

After years of living my life, I've realised that it's not femininity that I hate. I've always loved spinning around in flowy dresses. Wearing ribbons and putting on makeup. Acting like I'm a painter and my face is the canvas. It's not the silly little "female stuff" that I hated. It's the thought of being viewed as someone who's inferior. I never liked being looked down upon. I knew to myself that it was the highest high that I deserved, even if people would laugh at my ideals. But I wish I realised sooner that I don't need to be masculine to be deemed someone who's equally as strong; I don't need to be a boy to be loved and adored, and that I can sit still and look pretty and be loved.

#feminism #womanhood #essay

[thoughtsthatwereleftunsaid]

i still find my self think about you

[thoughtsthatwereleftunsaid]

There's this guy that I swore I didn't like anymore.

There's this aching feeling when he says he misses someone or when his friends tease him about someone he likes. I know for myself that the person he misses, the person he likes, and the person he planned a future with in his head is not me and will never be me. I tried to move on. I convinced myself to fall in love with other people. I fooled my heart into thinking I liked someone new. But how can you fool your heart if it's the only thing that sees the truth? I should've known that I'm fooling no one because, deep inside, my heart still continues to fall for the same guy I swore I'd move on from.

This made me wonder how long I will wait until my heart finally stops beating for the person I know will never reciprocate my feelings. You may have thought "How would you know that they'll never reciprocate your feelings if they never knew about them in the first place?". I'll be honest; the problem was never him; it was me. I'm a coward, afraid to commit. I'm afraid that my flaws will slowly show, and the facade I built will fade once my feelings are reciprocated. I'm afraid that people will leave once they see the real me. I'm drowning in my thoughts—thoughts about him and me that I know will never happen all because I never tried. Maybe someday, I hope, I'll be tough enough to face the truth and meet someone who'll love me till the end of eternity. But sometimes, I can't help but wonder: if I were never afraid, would that someone be him?

#thoughts