I used to be all angular shapes and rough edges. I could make you tremble with just a look and have you wrapped around my finger with a simple pout; this power was both a blessing and a curse.
On one hand it made me feel empowered—a badass. But, it was also my greatest downfall. It was the thing that kept me up at night, drops rolling down my cheeks while I questioned why I was seen as merely a pair of legs and lips.
I combated these feelings of self doubt with witty jokes and vulgar speech, thus creating a reputation that I didn’t even have. I was a self-fulfilling prophecy.
I am delicate; I tread carefully throughout my days with others in mind on the tips of my toes and my head thrown back with shrill giggles of glee escaping my lips.
And I know this change may seem strange and abrupt to others, that I have altered completely and I’m not myself anymore. Those accusations are not in the slightest wrong—I know I’ve changed.
However, some of my rough edges have not entirely smoothed out. I still maintain my brash humor and deflecting jokes, that’s who I am.
I am learning that I am strong, but that does not mean that I can’t be tender.
I have been shown that I possess galaxies behind these big brown eyes and words dripped in honey fall down from my lips.
I am being shown that I matter, and I will not apologize for shining brightly like the sun—you can find a pair of shades to adapt.
It’s a strange phenomenon because while I am both happy for the infinite possibilities of this change, I am saddened by the loss of an old me. And I don’t know what will happen even in the next hour, I don’t know what this new change in me entails.
But I know that I am fluid. I am soft.