There are different occasions we urge ourselves to think about. On some occasions, we invest effort more than we usually need. I, for one, am constantly looking for a method to show off, and find attention in these sort of occasions.
I am a woman. I cannot tell if I can be defined, or if I can be compared to others. But I find pleasure in comparing myself with my younger innocent self. I came to realize that nothing has changed. Years have gone by and I’m still the same girl (not woman) who makes mistakes more than she accomplishes anything.
I realize that soon I will never be able to learn from my mistakes. The horrid scars they have left will accompany me for eternity. I stained myself with blood, that became part of my veins. I repented, a hundred time. Still, haunted by the past and my the present, I will soon realize this life might not be for me, and yet, do I dare start again?
I am a woman. I will rise from the dead. Like I have risen two hundred times. Yet, each time I rise, I find no place to bury my past. My future is an entire mystery that I can no longer foretell (not like I ever could). All that ado about “living your life to the fullest” has scarred me, to find that I will never be able to be that person, who will be like all the rest.
I am a woman. Who has been fighting for several years. Fighting my inner and outer demons, and yet lost the battled, more than I can count or remember.
I am a woman, who lived for centuries, and yet all of them still mistake me for a child. An innocent child of one’s own fantasies.
I am a woman. In this life, in my previous life, and my future life (that I still cannot foretell).