“#A Woman
That woman whose gaze is fixed on nothing but herself and who she once was — no one can convince her otherwise, because she is the one who makes you swallow your own words.
That woman who has been through so much and yet so little, who no longer believes in false love. She knows who makes promises they are incapable of keeping, she knows who lies to her — even about who they really are. She knows who whispered empty words, because she is no longer the one who gets her hopes up.
She says she wants to be alone; she doesn’t want to be with just anyone who tells her what to do. She no longer wants anyone telling her what she’s worth, how far she can go, what her limits are, or what she is capable of being as a woman. She doesn’t want flowers brought to her because, for now, she belongs to no one — only to herself. She once trusted her heart blindly, believing she wouldn’t be hurt.
She is not willing to fall into the hands of just anyone who sees her as nothing more than an object, nothing more than a woman for pure pleasure — a woman who can be easily discarded as if her life, her feelings, her achievements, her very being were worth nothing. So she is the one who decides who receives her kisses, her heart, her own body — everything that belongs to her.
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She no longer wants to fall in love only for the story to end where it began, a cycle without love, made of tales and fantasies that will never come true. So she continues forward from where she made the mistake, turning the page.
She goes out at night where no one can see her, to be herself without judgment or prejudice. She doesn’t care who whispers about her, who wants to stain her name. She only thinks about no longer being that woman who needed validation from others. Now she gives herself her own worth and validation, making mistakes but finally taking control of her own life.
A woman who fell and rose again, who walked out of a forest she entered young, confused, and alone — but strong she was. That woman who always blamed herself for the consequences of her actions and ended up hurting her poor, sweet heart. Who cried in the morning, in the afternoon, at night, believing it would heal her wound — accepting that the wound would become a scar that would stay with her, reminding her how young she once was, how easily she believed lies, and of the people who didn’t want to help her and only knew how to judge.
Cry no more — you didn’t know what you were about to go through or what you would become. You couldn’t see what awaited you. So wipe away all those tears you shed; do it for yourself, for those who love you, value you, and give you strength. Just look forward — you have thousands of reasons to live. Living is knowing how to enjoy life, and if you take enough time, you’ll realize that even in the simplest things there is a moment more than beautiful. You just have to take the time to stop thinking about how to live, because you may think of so many ways to live that you forget to actually live. Just live until your heart gives its last beat and your final breath, and when that day comes, say with certainty and peace:
“I lived more than I could have ever expected. I lived a whole adventure without even realizing it, and I have to say that I truly regret nothing and would change nothing.”
It is not easy — I know. I know it is difficult to be a woman.
28/Nov/24–9:20 PM — 10:48 PM
Author: A.R.
