A Moment of Clarity
by Sarah Fletcher
by Sarah Fletcher
The majority of girls my age will soon explode. After years of wearing masks and being people who truly do not exist. After hundreds of sheltered opinions and meaningless conversations. After countless hours of hiding their intelligence, laughing while feigning timidity and not questioning their roles as eye-candy. After pushing unique ideas, thoughts and feelings inside to the point where they are full of truth, yet full of shit. These girls will explode.
How is it that millions of little girls are born the same but 75% of them construct false identities and lose who they are? One can only suppress them self, can only lie to them self for so long before snapping or becoming a socially constructed conformist. Why is it that some girls -- I maintain the usage of the word girls only because I am ashamed to call them women -- feel they need to parade around and put on a show for men and/or their competition. Parties have become pretentious dog shows where the finest breed of bitch wins. And what is the prize? The caress of a stereotypically intoxicated, sorry excuse for a man.
Why do we, as women, feel like we have to impress another being to lead a significant or fulfilled life? Cannot we be happy with ourselves and aware that we are all unique and incredible in ways that other people cannot fathom? Why would someone want to want to be like everyone else, when you could be outstanding or awe-inspiring just by being you. Why force a giggle when an intense, deep laugh is so attractive and sincere? Why dye your hair blonde and sit under false sunlight when you could show your individuality ( and not to mention your heritage) by being pale and brunette? Step out of the tanning bed and spend those fifteen minutes outside, finding not only a natural tan, but yourself as well.
I will not be in this dog show; I am the mutt who does not belong. I have my own history, beliefs, intelligence, talents and aspirations that make me a rare and special breed. I cannot be a trained poodle, nor will I try, because I want nothing but to be myself contentedly, creatively and completely.
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