TW: Dysphoria//Vent of family problems, identity, and self-consciousness, trauma. 

09/01/2024_ 

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I can't understand any of my situations even though i make them happen: Sure, i have been cruel, i have been kind, i have been a person, i have been whatever i could and showed how i felt before, clearly. But no, Even though i escape from my own reality in some kind of fantasy in my head where i am someone else, i'm still trapped in this body where i have defects... Errors...Cruelty... and even bad traits i swore i was going to erase from myself. I want to be someone else, i feel like someone else who is inside a cocoon waiting to be a butterfly, a cool butterfly! And.. yet, i'm meant to be the reflection of someone who is just as bad as myself, a woman i don't want to be, a woman i don't feel like or appreciate...It hurts, It hurts to listen to each word, each little phrase that makes me shiver when i hear it ring in my ears.

Being what i'm not makes me feel bad...I am not supposed to be this. My name, my appearance, my friends, my new life.. Is all what i think about every time i get the chance to be far away from that reality where i was just an object for seniors and where a little dress with a ribbon made felt like a prison in my own body, a weight i needed to endure. Mom, you swore you were going to let me bloom, yet, you're cutting down my petals, am i supposed to be just the thorns in the rose you wanted to plant? You say i'm not grateful, you say i don't love you, you say i'm a parasite... I wonder, would you ever do what you promise, the promise of accept me?

One day, i'll cut the weight off my chest, one day, i'll rip the earth where the seed is supposed to grow, one day.... I'm going to be more than a flower, i'm going to be a tree that endures the strong wind, the wind of a reality where being yourself is a crime.

I am something that wants to be something but important. I am going to be art, and my story needs to be the painter, my future the result, my body the art.