(To the women)
Do you ever feel as low as me?
Or is it just me?
Do you ever want people to notice and be there for you but the second they feel something’s off, you put on an act, brush it off, and make up an excuse?
Because behind the cute smile and beautiful eyes, there’s a girl who’s trying to be strong.
It’s what you feel when you say you’re fine but in reality, you’re going insane. You say you’re good but actually, you’re dying from the pain. You say it’s nothing but it’s definitely a lot. You say you’re okay but for god’s sake, you’re not.
I’ve always believed crying to be a cathartic release but now I think crying is what your heart speaks when your lips can’t explain the pain you feel.
The worst type of crying is when you lie on your bed and you need to thrust a fist in your mouth so that you don’t make noise. The salt streams come out from your eyes, run down your cheeks, and wet the pillow. And then you feel the sad type of sensation in your heart, you feel it is breaking, you feel like your soul is dying, everything feels too heavy, there’s a dead weight hanging on your head and then you remember everything that made you cry and then you wake up the next morning and smile like you weren’t crying last night.
Lately, all I know is that I’m a conflicted contradiction. I’m a paradox. I want to be happy but I can’t stop thinking about things that make me sad. I say I don’t care but I really do. I’ll stare at the mirror and only see my flaws. It’s like anxiety comes out of my eyes and through my mouth, only to boss me around, and then it holds me tightly; it just wouldn’t let me go.
Maybe rifts and ripples are what keep the river flowing but I wouldn’t know. I’m lost in the dilemma of choosing between what’s right and wrong, but it terrifies me to the core, that, no matter what I choose it will always end up in chaos. I cannot explain this turmoil inside me. I don’t know it myself.
“I’m constantly trying to communicate something incommunicable, explain something inexplicable, to tell about something I only feel in my bones and which can only be experienced in those bones.” - Franz Kafka
But that’s the thing about women. They will walk through fire and suffer more hurt than they’ll ever show.
This is what makes us beautiful. The fact that we can wear our pain like the grandest diamonds on our neck gives our beauty an edge. They are the angels that make hell seem like a paradise. They will sleep on a bed of thorns and still wear their bruise like a crown on their head. And that’s why believe me gentlemen when I say, she’s been through hell, so fear her when she looks at the fire and smiles.
Hey there! Thanks for reading. If you liked it then clap a billion times (just kidding) and comment. It would make my day😊.
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