Don’t Ask Me- A Woman

Don’t ask me why I am beginning to drop my normally sweet demeanor and opt for a cold-faced unimpressed personality. Ask me what the effects are of people dismissing the facts I have said and asking for a male to speak to. Apparently for some men and women, you have to be ‘packing down south’ to be heard as credible. I am not generalizing. Not everyone is like this. The percentage of those who are like this have made enough of a dent in our society, however.

You have to talk like a traditional man to be respected. To gain any traction myself and others have had to change their entire personality in public and at school to be heard. It does not gain a person smiles. It gains an individual glares and hostility. The reality is though that people start to listen to you. Just by faking your personality. By talking differently. By lowering tones and changing how you say your sentences.

This is not just a few words from one angry female that can be put down as the words of some crazy feminist. I have been taught in a college class for my degree that generally masculine forms of communication are respected in a working environment while generally female forms are dismissed. Deferring to hear all opinions of coworkers and customers and using key words of understanding is considered weak in the eyes of the workforce. Using firm language and not waiting for other opinions is considered to be admirable.

So yes. Women will begin to act like men when speaking in a work or power environment. If you don’t like that and you choose to glare at them, remember that these women are doing exactly what you have done to them.

Self Realization 

Self realization is like a continuous drip that becomes a puddle. There’s nothing on the floor below a break on the roof. Then after time, suddenly, there is an inscermountable mass that’s brought to the forefront. You can’t deny it. You can’t wish it away. You are what you’ve become, for better or worse. There will never be any going back. And maybe you don’t wish to go back. Maybe you wish to stay where you have found yourself. Just another move down the path. 

Adore 

With every waking thought, 

And every dream filled night,

My heart twists in a knot, 

Wishing for old quiet. 

Whether a strong windstorm, 

Or a lulling river,

To you my mind will form, 

As my soul will quiver. 

Found no rhyme nor reason, 

But I’m absorbed in you, 

Love they could not hasten

And only that is true. 

Yet now I am slipping, 

Adoring you more and more, 

The feelings so crippling, 

Affecting my very core. 

How the Shell Breaks

Hands trembling,

Heart revolting,

Tears falling,

But still she answers his call.
Eyes steeling,

Hands questing,

Grip bruising,

He consumes her pain. 
Over now,

Knees give out, 

The ground scrapes, 

She convulses with her sobbing. 
Turns his back, 

Grinning bright,

Laughing light, 

He has taken his fill. 
Soul grows numb, 

It repeats again,

He abuses her, 

Nothing left but a broken shell. 

Black Swan

Hated and reviled for wanting love.

Never accepted for how she was born.

Overshadowed by a twin, thought pure and good.

What if it was the white swan, who stole first?

 

The lake reflects the evil of her soul,

the curse cast to keep pain from another,

proclamations of innocence as fake

as the white feathers she is forced to wear.

 

A childish prince played with Odile’s heartstrings,

he saw only her unique exterior,

and not the true beauty held within her.

And it was herself that she safely cursed.

 

She set the white swan free to be with him,

then, her black hair into ebony feathers,

an outcast of swans and princes alike,

to feel endless freedom and happiness,

for the rest of her life.

Chessboards of Life

I’m not a game. You can’t just save your progress now and come back when you feel like it. You can’t evolve me to the next level when you get bored of where I am at currently. I don’t want to be a game. For anyone. 

You want my best qualities, but none of the worst. You want my smiles, but not my tears. I’m moody. I’m independent. I’m ambitious. I’m passionate. That is what makes me who I am. Take me or leave me. 

I’m full of love, so no, I do not need yours. Don’t forget that. I’m sure of myself because I know what I want: to be love. Not gain it from other people. I want to give love to others and to myself. 

I’m not a pon on a chessboard. I am the chessboard. I neither win or lose a game. I simply am. I don’t care if you are a friend, lover, or family member. If you want to win, then stop playing the game. 

Dreams

One of the best feelings in the world is the euphoria of knowing that the ones you love the most understand your dreams. Does this happen often? I don’t know.

It’s not that these people won’t be supportive. A lot are. However, sometimes it seems that you keep hitting a wall when people question why you sacrifice so much and think so decisively about your future.

My eyes have almost always been future focused. It has been when I glance back at the past behind me, or find myself settling for the present that I lose my identity. I forget what it is to be myself. My worst fear in life is losing my identity. The betrayal of forgetting myself is heart wrenching. Adversity is comfortable to me. Betrayal is not.

Sometimes I feel insane when people ask me what I am doing or why I am putting myself through this stress. I feel as if there is something fundamentally wrong with me and my structure of being is trembling around me. I know that I will never stop because I can never afford to.

I have to keep analyzing my future with pinched eyes because my dreams are such a big part of what makes me what I am. Even when people don’t understand where I’m coming from or insist that my reasoning is irrational. I sacrifice to make myself sure of who I am. To create my own happiness.

Keep dreaming.

What Are We Doing? 

What are we doing?

I sit in class and watch all the people. A girl puts on deodorant and mascara. She must have woken up late. A girl shops for athletic tanktop and sips on her smoothie. Others sleep, watch sports, or doodle in a notebook. And I watch. Take it in. Wondering what we are all doing?

I tune into the professor’s lecture, trying to teach what I consider common sense. Do others think this is common sense? Or is it just me? Is this why they tune out? Or is it because they don’t care?

There is this world around us, full of possibilities. We can be anything we want to be because we were lucky enough to be born in a first world country. And yet. We do nothing. We sit here. Texting. Yawning. Sleeping. Shopping.

Where is the adventure? The social activism? The familial love? The inspiration to do more and build ourselves? Prosper not through money or basic knowledge, but through spiritual growth?

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