Dear Diary

The paper priest hears a confession. For many women, speaking up about their darkest and most worrisome thoughts is not an option. Forced into silence by societal noms, or be treated as a nuisance or fear for safety... What could be learned if you care

 

 

 

When I was a child, I remember the doctor visits. My dad would take me usually… I figure because he was strong enough to hold me down when I saw the huge needle on my doctor’s tray. At first, it genuinely hurt. I was too stupid to realize that struggling like a wild animal would cause even more pain.

 

Now, when I feel a needle pierce my skin, I have something to press against it to dull the pain. It’s almost as if the body no longer matters. I’ve got repeat fractures in certain places I didn’t even know I broke until I was told. Here I was scared of hurting myself when it didn’t even make a difference.

 

It’s him.

 

His reassurance was all I needed. It actually sickens me that I am so weak. I will not collapse however. I have no choice but to stand even as the winds of reality strip me of any sense of purpose or future. If he were to reach for me right now, I don’t know if he can reach me, the longer he procrastinates. He is always too busy, too distracted, too preoccupied.

 

My innermost nature is to not trust men like him. ‘Friend’ becomes an extended term, less honorable and interchangeable with ‘Toy’. I become merely placed on a waiting list after making the second cut as he plays the field, this kind of man. Somewhere in there however is the same person who could look me in the eyes without distracting me with his touch and blow me away with his intensity. This is the person I forgive and wait for.

 

There is someone who claims me though. Our friendship reminds me of FLCL a lot. I worked hard to block out the memories, a pleasant smile as he joked with me about my obsessive internet usage. My heart still fights to forgive him for his ignorance, softened by words of thanks years overdue. When he mentioned the name of a another girl though, something stirred that shouldn’t have.

 

How can a child that has no understanding of his own emotions claim me aware of the implications, while men older than me who claim to know themselves cast me aside and play games with my time?

 

If he were to be brave like that child… He’s not capable of such a feat. I would like to think I am assumptive, but I am not. He will not show that face to me… such a gentle monster. Living in a fantasy world where people have character and courage has gotten me in more trouble than its worth.

 

Author's Note

grammar is intentional. for all the guys out there who actually care to attempt understanding how a woman's mind works, I present a snapshot.