I’m not afraid anymore.
I’m tired of being treated like a helpless princess who’s constantly in need of some shitty knight who’s packing an ego instead of a sword. I’m fucking angry that every guy I come across thinks I’m some project, a mystery to unravel. I’m none of these things. I’m a fucking woman and this does not mean I can’t handle whatever tornado hits me next.
I’m a whirlwind and every guy I meet better watch out before starting the race he thinks his competing in to get in my pants. I will break you down, piece by piece until you have no choice but to call me a tease. You can’t jump the gun when there’s no finish line anyway.
I’m pissed off at guys who think I’m mentally unstable because I can’t fathom being an accessory to their arrogance. Fuck off Sherlock, I wear crazy better on my own anyway. It must be nice thinking you’re the catch of the century when my head ain’t even in this era.
But most of all I’m livid at the blatant disrespect women show one another, all in a bid to win an imaginary war. The claws come out, and it’s always the same weapon they draw, their words. I’ve never witnessed a more spiteful age to be alive than now, where the punches get thrown and it hits your self esteem and it takes months to recover. I’m appalled at how we call each other out on faults that has no business being aired.
And finally I’m fucking fuming that it took me this long to get angry, getting angry means moving on and moving on means forgiving myself. So yes I’m not afraid of facing my truths anymore because my truths aren’t all that bad. So you see Nomad, this is my epiphany, this is my “light bulb” moment where I realise that my anger is warranted and that I have the right to get loud. I’m tired of holding my tongue and hoping my words don’t result in whiplash. I’m done being me the timid me that allowed anybody make me feel like I owed them nothing but a helpless princess. So this is me getting on my own horse with my strength as my shield…