The feminine urge
The endless dichotomies of the female existence
The feminine urge to be both seen and invisible. To be mysterious yet understood. To delete your entire online presence and never return. To share every single significant and insignificant moment of your life. The feminine urge to do it all, to have it all, to be it all. The feminine urge to be nothing at all.
The feminine urge to relate to other girls. The feminine urge to be “not like other girls”. To know that it’s all a societal construct. To still care about it all, even though you know. To be different and the same.
The feminine urge to go out dancing with friends and strangers for hours, with only happiest songs in the background. The feminine urge to lock yourself in your room and read for hours, with only the saddest songs in the background. To dress up. To dress down. To make plans. To cancel plans.
The feminine urge to drink 5 cups of coffee. To only drink water and green tea. To have the perfect skincare routine. To not be too high maintenance. To master the perfect winged eyeliner. To not look like you’re trying too hard.
The feminine urge to be enough. To think you’re not enough. To wonder, “how can I be enough?” The feminine urge to feel the pain. To take away others’ pain. To care about others’ pain just as much as, maybe even more than, your own. To wait for it to be healed.
The feminine urge to get revenge on someone who hurt you. To not get hurt in the first place. To be vulnerable enough that you were hurt. The feminine urge to forgive.
The feminine urge to be recognized for both your wins and your failures. To hold yourself to a standard so close to perfection that you will never achieve it. To not let this expectation be known, for the mask of obliviousness is somehow easier to wear than your own skin.
To know that none of this really matters. To know that maybe it does matter, to you. To know that it’s okay that it matters, to you. To know, but not understand. It’s okay.