I was told that I should endure all pain that came my way as practice for future pain I will encounter in life and that, rather than run away and cut people off, I should learn to suffer the hurt they inflicted because that’s the price of roses.
I realize now I don’t even like roses. I love sunflowers.
But it makes perfect sense now; your lessons in pain. You’ve lived among thorns all your life and have for years, carried your own deep scars and are still standing; strong a woman as there ever was. Strong and enduring as a woman should be. Because somewhere in all this, someone taught us that for a woman to stake claim to that thing called strength, she must endure an immense measure of undeserved pain.
But I am just a girl, desiring to be an other woman. Not a strong woman. Just a woman; a kind of human. With embraced feelings of raw anger and vengeance and ecstasy; and a voice to scream rather than bite myself to stifle my pain. And the strength to fight rather than silently endure. And the freedom to choose what pain I let myself feel.
I’m just a girl desiring to be an other woman.