LEAVE ME ALONE

Female

Femininity at it’s purest

Carry yourself “correctly”

Be what we want you to be

Suffer under patriarchy

Have your opinion but risk not being counted

Independence/dependence

Equality/love

Make your decision.

Young

Grow up, why don’t you?

Mould the future

Next gen.

We’re relying on you.

But you’re oh so disappointing.

All of you.

Our fate is in your hands.

“hoodlums” v “intellects”

Make your decision.

Mixed race

Black or white?

White or black?

What ARE you?

Do you have an identity?

Embrace yourself

“best of both worlds”... are you sure? (what about my world?)

Make your decision.

My decision is... human. Now leave me alone. 

...guilty.

I am guilty.

I haven’t been selfish enough. I have given too much, loved too hard, cared excessively and I have forgotten about myself. As females, we are socialised to be caregivers, to put others first before ourselves and provide support to others in any way we can. Some females have already figured out that sometimes we have to be selfish, and most of the time, it is okay to be selfish. I am on my way to not only acknowledging this, but living it.

People assume that being selfish is a bad thing. If someone is to call me selfish, my first thought is that I am offended. Why? What is so wrong about putting my own needs first? Absolutely nothing. I am my only constant in life, I am the basis of everything in my world. If there is a problem with me, there is a problem with everything else in my life because, no matter how hard I try, my own problems cannot be solved by caring for someone else as a way to ignore and “cope” with the original issue.

If I have security and love within myself, I do not need to seek acceptance from others, I understand the importance of my own needs and wants. I value my own feelings. I place myself above everyone else. Caring for me first does not mean caring less for everyone else in my life, and this is something I struggle with. Damn socialisation, I didn’t ask for this.

Everything begins with me. Learning to love myself is a daily challenge, but one which I have entered wholeheartedly. It is so much harder to accept my actions, thoughts, choices and characteristics than it is to accept my physical appearance, because for so long I haven’t been thinking of myself first. Maybe I have been a coward and have purposely done this to avoid truly loving myself. Do I fear myself? Do I fear the person I will become if I truly love myself? Do I fear the person I will become WHEN I truly love myself and I place myself above others in my life?

It often takes a huge wake up call, a slap in the face, so to speak, to fully recognise where you are going wrong in life and although mine came from an unexpected and unwanted situation, I am so grateful. I know that for those reading this, this seems so personal, but I know that I am not the only female who is on this journey.

I lost myself in ignorance. Did I ever HAVE ‘myself’? That is the question I should be asking. My progress is astounding and for the first time, I am honestly proud of myself. I know that I am a beautiful person, but loving myself needs to extend beyond this, I need to feel confident in my abilities, in my love and in my own stability. Only then will I be able to apply myself fully and recognise the importance of me...because I am everything.

...now

I am a young woman in a big world, with dreams and ambitions. I said I didn’t want to be a cliché. Can you hear me yet?

We are evolution; don’t disturb my peace.

I can only provide insight into things that I know and considering the immeasurable ‘all’, I know very little. I can make you question however, everything that is visible. That is the power of me, you and everyone around us.

I live in the present because this is the only place that I exist in the physical. My mind and soul may venture into unknown possibilities of the neighbouring past and future from time to time, but reality says I am a figure in the present. Don’t forget to live. I cannot fathom the concept of living in the future, because this is all I know. I shouldn’t need to elaborate. Granted, my now decisions will impact my future but if I live right and think right now, my future will form itself and I shall live in it when the time comes.

I’m far too busy living to cry about the unknown.

I am a realist/optimist/opportunist/everythingist neatly sewn into one soul. I believe my success is measured by my self-fulfilment, which comes from reaching any goals that I set out for myself. Money doesn’t make me feel successful; it merely allows me to live in this capitalist society under pressure. Money is a thing. I am a mind and soul trying to be. If greed is what drives you, your want to live happily will never be fulfilled because your want to for more will always outweigh it. Distortion and dilution victimise our generation. Don’t stunt your own growth by following a path already set out for you, because that path will only lead you to your beginning, with no enlightenment.

Who said I was right? These are my thoughts and you are welcome to them, don’t dispute them ‘cause my soul isn’t interested. Understand growth before you judge it and abuse it. Appreciate now because it is yours to claim. Not everything has a price and you should appreciate the things that don’t.

This is me now, not yesterday or tomorrow.

A Dedication

There are so many things that I cannot explain, but I can provide you with endless comments, anecdotes and insights.

I don’t know why it targeted me or why I allowed it to. In fact, I don’t even know how it all started. One day I decided to sign my life over to Literature.

Though I did it indirectly and unknowingly, I still did it. I have never looked back. Literature has never treated me badly, so I will not allow a bad word. I don’t want to over-complicate things here, I simply want to state.

This is a dedication, in it’s truest form... to Literature.

I’m partial to negativity aimed at my owner. Everyone can identify themselves with a piece of Literature, there is something out there which stands for every individual. You don’t have to want it to stand for you, it just does and with acceptance comes understanding, in that order. Literature is one of few constants in this world, and everyone likes something to rely on. Literature is that glance that speaks to you in a firm way. You don’t have to know what it is to know what it means. With one thing comes another and nothing is alike.

Literature has seen everyone through an experience. To assume your exemption would be to ignore your own being. It doesn’t have to make sense, it creates the rules and you’re simply a follower. A cherished one, I assure you.

This is a dedication.

When I cannot give anymore, and when I feel like my mind’s capacity to mind is overflowed with nothingness, I turn to you. You turn to me! We turn, and never turn away. This insistent binding of you and I on every separate occasion, is simply that... separate. The layers of relationship I form with Literature each time I trace it with my ears, eyes and mind are significant to my character.

I can sit and admire for hours. Literature is my idol. We are Literature’s children, so this is a dedication.

Don’t turn away and shrug as though you don’t recognise; Literature is the lady who gave you your mind.

To know me...

To know me, is to understand my love. To understand my love is to appreciate that fine divide between complexity and simplicity.

Some words, phrases, sentences, need not explaining further.

Mr. Optimism carries my heart in the pocket of his corduroy trousers. As he walks, runs, hops and sits my heart bounces around inside there, complacent in the frivolous bustle. I like it. Whilst Mr. Optimism teaches my heart to extend itself to the more pleasing outcomes, he also teaches it realism. Don’t slow down, don’t dwell too much. Enquire and hope, move forward.

Mrs. Cautious holds my mind’s hands as we walk together in satisfying embrace. (I say satisfying because; sometimes I wish I could rid of her and form a secret love affair with Mr. Careless). Oh what a life. They say it is mind over matter, but it is matter over mind when Mrs. Cautious leads the way. ‘Don’t do that’ she says, ‘think of the consequences’, ‘what about everyone else?’ Suddenly overwhelmed with her tedious teachings and extravagant morals, I give in and my soul comes second... sometimes.

Ms. Meaning has enraptured my soul and I don’t want her to ever free it. Lately, more than ever, I have been enticed by Ms. Meaning, stealing me away from Mrs. Cautious. I don’t mind though, I’ll happily go wherever Ms. M wants me to because I know I’m sure to have fun. She gives me this free feeling which is neatly locked with a shadow of purpose. Purpose which never hides and is shamefully brazen, but still elegant and reposeful. The intricate relationship Ms. M and I share is one which I cannot explain. She encourages expression and provides me with clues, for which I have to give my own explanations.

I can say that three work in perfect, ignorant harmony... but I would be telling a big Mr. Lie. They are in constant competition, battling to overtake. I love all. My three loves give me diversity in their glory and unknown. An imperfect alignment that works so conventionally. Contrasts within similarities.

It works for me, because I love this way. 

the painfully obvious

My skin. Smooth, new flesh – a golden, pale brown complexion. My face. Round, full of life.

My mind. My most beautiful asset and the one I care for the most. This one teaches me how teach. Ironic. Uses my eyes and ears as it’s tools of perception and uses itself to interpret, understand. It guides me through my days, it grows, it changes, it is in constant transition. Never have I seen it this way. The mind is so magnificent my words do it no justice.

I’m looking at everything. I am noticing delicate and intricate details that didn’t show themselves to me before. I see myself as singular, one. A product of my time simply adapting to change everyday – whether I am succeeding or not I cannot tell – time will show and prove my strength...or lack of.

The will. The will to continue this expedition. This journey with it’s unknown destination which picks at my core and gives me indifference. Leads me down routes I would never have considered had I known the consequences. Foolish. Learning.

This feeling of...this unknown feeling which gives my mind, my hands and my heart the urge to give myself through my words. My mere and simple words so obviously inferior to so many others...I give them nonetheless. Their significance alters as they leave me...’for better or worse’. More for my own benefit than anyone else’s. I enjoy them. Wanting to give more but my fear of giving too much and losing myself is far more overpowering than my ever so simple want.

I find solace in words, in feelings, emotions, thought, music. A natural lover. You can interpret in your own way, I really don’t mind. Take what little I give to you and use it as your own – I share for you to care. I’m not sure how powerful or influential my words are, if at all...but please don’t let them go to waste.

My style. I choose to give.

My mind, so elegant. Everything so natural, not forced. So new. Appreciating my mind, what do I give back? What do you give back? I give my words back, some stimulation. Literature, love, music.

Guitar strings softly pulling, softly melodic. Tranquil. Grateful. The cotton of my shirt, soft and fitting...but not closing me in. Freedom to give.

Freedom. I feel free in me. In my words and my thoughts because I’m not obliged to give, hence why I do.

‘The hardest thing is to have a good man after you’ve had a bad one.’

Try...the hardest thing is to give after everything you had has been taken.

Everything you worked for, you lived for, you stood for. Stripped. Naked, ears pulsing, overwhelmed. Where has it all gone?

You build, you create. Give yourself something so that eventually, you can give willingly again. But heal first, before you give everything away and someone takes off with it all.                 Vulnerable.

Learning, loving, knowing how to give and share. Keeping your most sacred thoughts and feelings to yourself – between your pen and paper – give the rest.

It’s free. 

A state of...

Are all of the thoughts we project our own? A mass so heavily influenced by exterior factors. Our own thoughts and emotions become overwhelmed by the excess of information we receive.  The capacity to digest and understand what is going on around us; this absorption may often cloud what we are really thinking and feeling. Does this indicate that the recognition and acknowledgment of the presence of other’s thoughts mean that we adopt them as our own?

Can you clearly distinguish between which thoughts are yours, came from you and which thoughts have been planted in your mind? Surely a thought not shared, but forced on to you, is one which can easily influence you in a way which you may not even think is possible or even be able to comprehend. Every day we live our lives we are bullied and beaten by the words and thoughts of others, so much so, that we simply may not be mentally able to keep a clear mind, space for ourselves.

Space for ourselves, in our own minds. The thought of the absence of the presence of such a thing is just unthinkable.

I sit here and write my own thoughts consciously, certain that what I’m writing is my own when subconsciously; these could be the thoughts of another.

Thinking is a constant. You feel, you think. You think, you feel.