Inside the woman
There is a little girl inside this woman
beneath an impervious aura and sweet charm
The girl who had no friends
who was ridiculed because she played by the rules.
The girl who tried so hard to fit in
who was told to smile more
who was called fat, stubborn, too quiet
The girl who was just never enough
who prayed to be spoken out of existence
The girl became the odd young woman
Always outside looking in
She watched them: friends, cliques, groups
They laughed, teased each other
No matter how hard she tried, no one looked her way
The one who was passed over so many times
who never seemed to measure up to their standards
who lowered her standards because someone finally looked her way
The woman stopped trying.
She stopped looking in
stopped listening, yearning, wishing
She understood the rules, learned to play by them
No expectations
No disappointments
She accepted everything that made her
cried over the ones that would never change
celebrated those that made her, oh, so unique
And that’s how she found her people.
Those who called her weird, because she was
The people who laughed at her jokes, called her funny
The ones who called her on the phone, just because
No expectations. No hurdles to jump
With them, she didn’t have to try
They just let her be, flaws and all.
The woman is happy, confident, loved.
But every now and now then, when she takes a look inside,
She sees her: the little girl.
She’s still there
There is no light in her eyes
She still can’t look herself in the mirror, at the hideous image that stares back.
The girl is still the same: insecure, uncertain, hurting
The woman worries what that means.
Photo by Houcine Ncib on Unsplash
