Definitions

Cute, little Anja.

Sweet, little Anja.

Nice, adorable, lovable Anja.

 

Cute – definition: pleasingly pretty.

Sweet – definition: having pleasant manners.

Adorable – definition: delightful or charming.

 

I wonder if it’s time to re-evaluate myself

if these are the words that people always use to describe me.

Not that these characteristics are bad.

On the contrary, they’re quite nice.

 

But that’s just it.

 

Nice.

 

Is that all that I am?

Is this all that I can be?

An agreeable, polite, conservative girl

who does what she’s told

and lives in the background?

 

I would hate to think that.

 

Some other adjectives I want to come to people’s minds when they think of me:

 

Strong – definition: of great moral power or courage.

Confident – definition: sure of oneself.

Stunning – definition: of striking beauty or excellence.

 

This is the woman that I want to be.

 

One with a voice.

One with an opinion.

One with a purpose.

 

I need to change how I hold myself.

How I dress myself.

How I present myself.

 

And not just on the outside,

the part everyone sees.

 

But also on the inside,

the part only there for me.

 

Because I cannot be

strong, confident, or stunning

only on the outside.

 

It has to come from within.

 

This is my challenge.

And I accept.

The War Against Self-hating Bullshit

*So here is my feble attempt at free verse poetry – I’m not 100% proud of it looking back, but I was when I wrote it, so I guess that’s what counts. I hope that you like it! And if not, well, not really my problem*

Self-hating bullshit.

Sorry, how else would you put it?

When demonic voices of unknown origin

Yell at you, scream at you

Telling you those things you try to keep out:

Fat.

Ugly.

Worthless.

Lied to.

Not special enough for anyone to try to.

 

But imagine reaching inside

And pulling out a cage.

And what’s held inside

Is what this war against is waged.

 

A soul.

A beautiful, crystal-clear, shining white soul.

 

But it’s trapped.

Tied down by thoughts and words that are mapped

With the purpose to make sure you don’t find a lapse

To keep it there forever, always wrapped

Up in the things you can’t shake away.

 

Trapped.

 

But.

 

Only you hold the key to open the cage.

Instead of letting your soul die there, broken and afraid.

 

That key is self-worth.

Only you can bring your thoughts down to Earth.

Away from the hatred, the pain, and the hurt.

Maybe those voices provide some sort of comfort; a void, pit

That we can hide in, away from all of it.

But your soul won’t thank you.

No, not at all.

 

I’m not saying it’s easy to reach for that key.

Considering the prize, why should it be?

So many people are still trying for the key.

I should know.

 

Because one of them is me.

AF