as a young girl i wanted nothing less than to be normal
i wanted to be different and special and i believed it made me superior in some way
i feel in a way the years i've lost to my mind have caught up with me
it's hard to find the true purpose behind my actions
do my male friends show i'm chill or are they all pawns in my game
does the lack of makeup show strength? or does it tell you i'm different
i don't know whether my child self's personality was all a front for my hatred of women
chavs, popular girls, netball girls, i hated them all
did i hate them or did i hate myself
where they the perpetrators or was i
were they stupidly following societies standards for men, or for themselves
was it perhaps possible that femininity wasn't just about movie stars
about the girl in the cafe, with a book, and a dress who got noticed!
picked out from the crowd, quiet, friendless
why was i convinced personal misery was the way to find a man?
why was i convinced being a normal, happy woman was a negative
why was i convinced the only way i would be good enough would be to be chosen
no effort, no talking to men, going out
why was i so convinced i would be found.
i'm still young, you never know
but i loath myself for not putting myself out there
if the majority of my problems were of my own accord
growing up romanticising the illness the woman in the coffee shop was facing
romanticising it to the extent that i yearned for the sickness
i thought it made me beautiful, mysterious, and yet still, no man
so many terms to describe a loud woman, a bitch, a twat, frumpy, a gossip, the list goes on
its important to remember quiet women don't get what they want
call her a bitch but shes winning
i wish i were winning
i wish this realisation had come sooner, i wouldn't have had to go through this hell
all for what? a bid, a guess, a gamble
a goal not to be normal, but special, because being normal is not enough
its okay to feel special as normal
you aren't a quest
your life's journey does not need to revolve around seeking a man
so give up! be giddy, tipsy, loud, childish, make mistakes, make an absolute fool of yourself, but do it for you, not some imaginary man you see in your dreams
you are average, you are not groundbreaking, you are a girl, and that is enough.
i'm beginning to realise as much as i hate it, my feminism isn't rooted in the right things. i'm not in it for any girls i don't deem different. the ugly girls, smart girls, patient girls, quiet girls. i still hold a negative space in my brain for the girls who aren't clever, who are beautiful, who are loud and feminine. it's tricky to reflect and realise your own faults but equally, it's incredibly important. women are wonderful, in every shape, size, and mind. jealousy has been used forever to pit women against eachother, and it's sad! sisterhood is such a brillaint thing and falling for the men pitting us against eachother is enevitable at some point, but it must be unpacked or life will be bitter, unkind and stressful.
