when people are in love
they often say
they simply fell
tripped over their own two feet
face forward
and into the arms of their beloved

i did more than simply fall
onto the ground of your love

you, for me
were an ocean
and i dived
headfirst
roughly
harshly
almost painfully
into the waters of “you”

i knew i could not swim
but i did so anyway
i was drowning
entangled in you
surrounded by this being of “you”
engulfed in this feeling of “you”

and i did not know what came over me
but i let myself drown
i did not try to swim back up
because if i went back to land,
releasing myself from your grasp
that would mean losing the feeling of “you”

and after
submerging into the depth
the love
the passion
of “you”

how could i ever leave?

The alarm buzzed.
I didn't hit the snooze button.
Instead, I woke up. I woke up and it felt different already.

I didn't love you anymore.

I didn't want to stay in my bed and cuddle with you. My bed sheet didn't smell like you. My misbuttoned shirt didn't crave for your attention. Nor did my shabby hair locks long for your touch. My room felt bigger, brighter. And the frosty window pane looked clearer than before. The walls stopped closing in. I could see things vividly. I could hear my heartbeat. I could feel the warmth of my hands. I could move my lips. My neck felt less burdened. Most importantly, I could breathe, normally. My eyes weren't watery anymore and that pain that weighed down on my chest was long gone.
All that gone. Just like that.

I didn't love you anymore.

I didn't think of you in the shower. Your thoughts never came rushing into my head. Your memories didn't bother me. My morning coffee tasted better and the newspaper made much sense. The last voicemail you send seemed cracky and those photographs on the wall were all washed out. I forgot your smile, the way your eyes glanced into mine. Everything about you was a faded memory now. For the first time in many long years, I felt no pain. I felt free. I felt like myself. I felt alone. But being alone didn't scare me at all. Being alone felt natural, quite natural.

I smiled. Just because.
I didn't love you anymore.

Who and What decides the worth of a Woman?
The clothes she wears?
The oaths she swears?
The roles she bears?
The circumstances she dares?
The lipstick she adores?
The men she abhors?
The challenges she faces?
The life goals she aces?
The things she's bid adieu?
Her untampered list of rue?
Me or You?

It's ok to be born different.
It's ok to be abnormal, subnormal and normal.
It's ok to be scarred, to be scared.
It's ok that you once cared.
It's ok your childhood was a mess.
It's ok you're still a damsel in distress.
It's ok to wish for everything.
It's ok to have had nothing.
It's ok to be a child and still grow up.
It's ok to live in fear, to casually throw up.
It's ok to not fit the frame.
It's ok to not have hit the fame.
It's ok to talk to yourself.
It's ok to listen to others than thyself.
It's ok to dance under the moon.
It's ok to walk like a complete loon.

It's ok to have odd mannerisms.
It's ok to like everything everyone else says.
It's ok not to like everything everyone else says.
It's ok to be gullible.
It's ok to be shy.
It's ok to be fat.
It's ok to be short.
It's ok to be called ugly.
It's ok to fall in love.
It's ok to have lost the war.
It's ok to pour out how your heart feels.
It's ok to be shot down, stomped upon.
It's ok to be broken.
It's ok to cry your heart out.
It's ok to yell at the top of your lungs at random.
It's ok to pretend at times.
It's ok to laugh maniacally.
It's ok to make others laugh.
It's ok to show how you feel.
It's ok to hope, not to give up.
It's ok to want to go places and to adopt a pup.
It's ok to feel something other than happy.
It's ok to feel love, hate and everything in between.
It's ok to be a mystery than a mere tragedy.

It's ok to be this way.
It's ok to be okay.
It's ok to be you.

You see
Cards, Chocolates and Red Roses.
I see
Lies, Fake promises, and Fleeting Proposals.

I love my body.
The way it's imperfectly perfect,
slightly curvy around the edges
inevitably flawed,
tortured and tormented
whiplashed and backstabbed
but still and always a great piece of art.

I love my face.
The way its burdened by two chubby cheeks,
bears a thousand emotions no one can perceive,
how marvelously it masks my mind,
ignored and ridiculed
yet still chooses to smile.

I love my skin.
The way it is cold and warm at the same time,
pale, puckered with fear
tanned, tarnished with regret,
scrutinized and scarred
but still glows.

I love my hair.
The way it never listens to anyone but itself,
acts as a tangled mess,
an untangled spirit more or less,
chopped off, pulled at
yet subjects to shine magically.

I love my lips.
The way it speaks with kindness,
guards silence and is often
mistaken for its innocent kisses,
parched, bled and muted
but still a fiery, crimson code of concupiscence.

I love my fingers.
The way they wish to be intertwined with yours forever,
snaps, shushes and points
at the slightest arguments that arrives
with such brevity and righteousness
always kept crossed for better things to come by.

I love everything about myself.
I am proud of my body and everything that comes with it.
What I don’t like though
is the way you make me feel about myself.

Notice that girl.

Notice that girl who has her long hair left like an uneven tangled mess.

Notice that girl who keeps biting her nails even though they are short and brittle.

Notice that girl if she has water welled up in her eyes, all the time.

Notice that girl if she bites her lip a little too hard.

Notice that girl who has a pair of sweaters and sweatpants put on, often worn and slightly torn.

Notice that girl if she looks like a hot mess but still doesn’t care.

Notice that girl if she seems awfully anti-social, passive-aggressive, extremely fearful and isolated.

Notice that girl for the panic attacks she gets for no reason.

Notice that girl for her unusual affinity towards a good cup of coffee.

Notice that girl if she seems to be an insomniac and is awake drawing circles on a blank piece of paper regardless of 2 am or pm.

Notice that girl who seems to have been lost in her own thoughts even in the middle of a conversation.

Notice that girl who looks like she needs a hug.

And when you finally do notice her, hug her tight.

Hug her as if she was one of your own.

Trust me when I say she needs it more than anyone else.

What do you see when you look at me?

Brown hair
Short, Fair
Curvy around the edges
Lipstick shade everyone judges
Comfortable wear, totes, and wedges
Uneven nail ridges, mascara smudges
Goofy mannerisms, a subject of criticism
prodigy of individualism with a slight tinge of feminism
Smart, Cute
an acute brute or a complete hoot
a witch, a narcissistic *****
or yet another girl you can easily ditch
Incredible, gullible
Adorable or terrible
Cold-hearted, Introverted
or easily outsmarted
the biggest smile you’ve ever seen
the one who addresses herself as the Queen
Kind, mean or everything in between.

What do you see when you look at me?