One day I blossomed like a flower, but one night I set the entire garden on fire
I know I may seem firm. But the truth is, I’m drained from always having to be the one to hold things together. I’m exhausted from always being the one to pick up the pieces for others. Because just once, I want to be the one who is held, chosen, and valued.
It hurts. That in order to find my own peace of mind, I had to forgive others to forgive myself. I had to mend fences with those who once burned bridges with me. I was never kind to myself, I held ten knives and stabbed one into other people, and the remaining nine into myself. Because I’ve come to believe that my own hands are more cruel to me than they are to others.
There’s so much rage in me, so much that they manifest through the gaze, rather than through spoken words. I am pacifying my fury for I learned that I am ripping myself apart, instead of papers. But you know what? There’s something about me that people just don’t know. I’m good at giving hope to others even though I am not sure if I have it in me.
It can be disconcerting to be perceived as strong as fortress, as others may presume you can handle everything smoothly without recognizing your vulnerabilities.
Someone once said to me, that I need to open up about my struggles instead of always trying to appear strong. But I didn’t listen. Now the repercussions arrived to bestow upon me recognition for my remarkable acting skills. A mistake I never try to hide.
I just want to shout to the world that please, let me stumble for once. Let me get wounded for my own negligence not because someone was responsible for it. I’m not too young for this. I just want to fall for once with no other to blame but myself . I’m strong, but I’m weak too and this is what gives me strength to continue.
If I am to be cast down to my knees in weakness, let it be witnessed by all, so they may behold the full extent of my vulnerability — that I, too am susceptible to fragility.
Perhaps the greatest revenge is to end up against what you once fought for. And in my case, it’s to be able to show weakness. I need to let go of million pieces — pieces that would complete a whole new expectation of others that would surely destroy me.
A good girl doesn’t start a fire. But I do. And I will see to it that all the things that defined me as an angel burn up in flames ‘til there’s nothing left but tiny pieces of ashes—until there’s no reason to pretend anymore.
I never appreciated the scent of burning flowers until I sparked a wildfire in my own garden, and just like that, the old me died alongside them.
