Whispers of the Heart

Open Our Hearts

I often ask myself questions such as this.

Why did you make me a girl?

When my grandmother had asked you to bless her family with a boy, why did you heed otherwise?

And you know I do not accuse you.

I am merely curious.

What characters did I possess in a girl that I could not in a boy?

Whenever I've asked you out loud, you've always whispered in my mind.

"Why don't you find it out for yourself?"

At first, I was apprehensive and strong-headed.

I wanted to be a boy so badly, I wanted freedom.

But the problem with being immature is that you overlook the most beautiful aspects of your life.

You had given me an aspect, which was perfect.

And I found out why.

Because when women were oppressed, I was the voice of reason.

When my family was in distress, I was the pillar that stood tall.

When emotions got the best of me, I pulled myself out of the pit that I had dug in for myself.

When my father, when my mother, when my brother seemed angry, I was the laughing girl in the room.

Is that why you made me a girl?

I cannot be sure of my answer.

I cannot be sure of anything when it comes to you.

You, magnificent, beloved, beneficent, kind, compassionate- you are the epitome of it all.

Because you are extraordinary.

Yet you chose me.

Yet you made me suffer what girls suffer throughout life to press it into my skull, that being a girl was infinitely better than being a boy.

How could I have known that?

I couldn't.

My vision was too hazy, to opaque.

Too blinded by desires, by wants of a materialistic kind.

But you were perfect.

Ha, I talk about you as if you aren't there.

I wonder why.