Oh Vismaya, do you know what the world is right now? I see your life story more than I see the COVID updates. You have rekindled a flame that slept sound. I don’t know what to say or how to react. Many of my fears make me more and more inferior. But I don’t know, whom I feel inferior to and how to resolve them and if at all it should be resolved. I don’t know if any of you will read this, whether or not it reaches you, I doubt myself if I’d ever share this.
Then I feel a tremendous weight pulling my feelings into a dark hole, about how I’ll be judged for writing this, even before I’ve completed it. I don’t know I may not know how it feels to be married, or harassed for dowry or how to deal with in-laws. But I do know quiet a lot about the pressure both the society and one’s peers can insert in one’s non-realist and naive brain. Because I am a victim too.
The world’s got more voice for gossip than selfcare. The anxiety that grows within just scares me. I constantly hide from myself, trying to live up to the standards of the people around me. The society. Who is the society? Isn’t it the people around you, the few hundred people you know. The few hundred who know you well. The few people who care to hear your stories and then judge you blindly based on the events that came as words with no empathy!
I don’t know who we hide from. There is this constant in-Cognito mode that we project both virtually and in real. Who do we hide from? Why are we ashamed to search about what we don’t know? Who is it that we fear from. Whether is it from stalking the lost lovers, to exploring our body or to even buying lingerie. Why is there a notion of fear? Why do we smile yet only think of revenge? Why do we pretend to fool others? Why do we do anything?
Just let me be. Let me act like a silly teenager for a while. Let me color my hair in the weirdest way possible and not be tagged with names. Let me cut my hair until my feminine qualities show well. Let me wear what I like without being judged about my body. Let me go about my travels without feeling threatened about my virginity. Let me sit with my legs crisscrossed. Let me talk about my business, my plans, my ambitions without being pressurized by some senseless stereotypes. Let me stare at who scorns me from a crowd. Let me talk to men, so I know when to avoid one. Let me talk to women, so I know when one suffers. Let me do it, so I know how to do it. Let me think that my opinions are valued though wrong. Let me think that the result of my academic life is to pursue my adventures and not be sold off like an invested property. Let me use my life to say thank you to you. Just let me be. I’ll be alright.
Mercy Hapsiba
Freelance Writer~Blogger~Learner
Recent Comments