How is it that I am one and yet there are two of me?
First is the girl who loves long tranquil walks with the heat of the sun gently kissing her skin. The aroma of wet concrete as the rain embeds itself into the ground beneath her.
She’s as soft as the tender kiss a mother places on her new born and is insecure in all that she does. And yet she hides that from others to show and tell them that they are perfect. She is the girl who is prepared to hurt herself in order to help others, always putting herself last which is a shame because she deserves nothing less than the best. She feels everything immensely as her emotions go deep, which can be both a blessing and a curse as it leaves her heart on her sleeve.
You’ll find her with her head in a book or in her room over thinking every little mistake that she made. Eating up self hatred to the point she didn’t know what self love was anymore. I see her in the eyes of the girl who acts like she has it all together, in the eyes of the girl who covers herself up because she is insecure of every inch of her skin.
I see her in the mirror on the days that I let myself fall.
On the other hand there is a girl, a fighter.
She forces herself to hold her head up high even when she feels like she has the weight of the world on her shoulders. When all I want to do is run away and never look back she reminds me of who I can be, of how valuable I am. That my pained screams can tell the stories of how I became, even when they stole my voice from me. That the chaos from within due to the silencing of a lost soul, will soon be anchored.
She tells herself not to care of what others think, she tells herself she is worthy and good enough. To stand up to herself and others. She is the confidence that I have on the rare days that encourage me to flaunt my beauty.
She doesn’t need company she is complete on her own. Armoured with a sense of self belief she strides down the streets knowing that she is hers. That she is no one’s possession and therefore is under no obligation to anyone but herself.
She holds me up each time I fall but sometimes she loses to the darkness and gets tied down. On those days she feels trapped , like a prisoner to its shackles, but that will not stop her from trying. And it shouldn’t stop you either too.
I have realised I am more soft than I am the other but she is still me and she helps me carry on with life because she is the fighter within.
I don’t want to be just soft nor do I want to be just strong. I love being able to feel this immensely because it leaves me feeling content with the littlest gestures. But I also love the fact that I used to be so insecure because now I have nothing but self love within me.
I guess living in between two cultures has added to these thoughts of how there are actually two of me but I am making peace with myself and hence both of me can finally coexist as one.
I have just rambled to release and I hope if any of you feel the same, that you too learn to coexist. Pop up if you want to.