100 Naked Words — Day 19
You Don’t F***ing Know Me
Reflections, Ripples and Ramblings of a Restless Mind
The anger rose up in waves, unbidden and intoxicating. It pulsed through her veins, mimicking her heart beat at first, then pushing it higher as the adrenaline bathed her body. She felt her breath first get deeper as she drew air into her lungs, then more shallow as she prepared to release the storm building within her, the anger was her solace right now, her shelter, her safe place. Her refuge.
This wasn’t the cowed, bedraggled waif, so often humiliated; this was rage incarnate, Enyo and Kali summoned forth on the world, to bring a reckoning upon it. This was every slight, every condescending, deprecating remark, every misogynist murmur, every god damned insult to her intelligence, every fucking attempt to knock her down and keep her in her place, brought to bear. Locked, loaded and aimed at the world.
This wasn’t hate, this wasn’t the shallow anger of jealousy or the fury of a ‘woman scorned’. Those petty attempts to belittle the hurt weren’t emotions that belonged here, this was pure and primal, cathartic and powerful, blazing and brilliant.
She felt the timbre of her voice fill with the susurration of so many lost, forgotten and forsaken souls, they caught at first, then billowed out, growing in stature, in strength. In depth.
And then from this arsenal of anger it came, that cry the world had — till now — not heeded, that exaltation of the oldest of energies that echoes the mother of worlds. It was a cry of triumph and tears, a cry for today and all her tomorrows.
You don’t f***ing know me, and YOU DON’T F***ING OWN ME.
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