My insecurities.
I fear I am
not quick enough, not smart enough, not clever nor fun. I fear I lack of
substance (that which is relatable) and that I am not profound enough to understand
anybody else’s deep thoughts for a lack of practice. I have become a little sceptical
of deep conversations because I have stopped romanticising difficult circumstances
and I have started being more real with myself, and a lot of deep artsy bitches
aren’t really. They cover their pain and problems with roses so they become beautiful
and something to preserve despite the incessant dreadfulness that comes with
letting your troubles become something so crucial to being who you think you
are or should be. Process your emotions, but more importantly, take them as
they are and then let them go. I hurt often. I have learned to be honest with
myself these past years but I have also become more insecure, someone has
pointed out some flaws about me I can’t overlook (since I am with them 24/7),
but that I am still trying to accept and find people who can deal with them,
and maybe, just maybe, love them. I am relentlessly working on myself and
trying to heal myself, there isn’t anything more worthy of my time.
Physical insecurities.
Everything “wrong”
with my eyes: my eyelids have so many folds, they are not symmetrical and they
make it hard to apply eyeliner on plus I don’t think the shape of them is elongated
nor flattering enough, they are quite short and small and my eyelashes are pointing
straight down, they’re short and weak.
I was
dating a guy named Roberto when I was living in Mexico City, I met him at work
and I was infatuated with him, I would wait for him until 3 am until he was
done with work just so we could walk home together (we didn’t live far from each
other). I loved his eyes, they were my favourite thing about him and not the shape
of them nor their size, but the way in which he would squint them when he
smiled or looked at me or when he laughed with a slight pinch of abashment, the
way his eyes communicated so much, but more than that, would make me feel so much.
I think of Roberto when I feel bad about my eyes, I think of how I would have
fallen in deep love with his eyes even if they would have been the smallest
shortest no lash kind of eyes solely for
how damn special they made me feel when his powerful gaze was laid upon me. And
that makes me think of the real beauty within eyes, and that it is not about symmetry
nor size but instead, a lot more about magic and emotion, and letting your eyes
genuinely express how you’re feeling, specially when what you’re feeling is
love, there isn’t anything more beautiful than the way you can make someone
feel loved by just looking at them and allowing all of your emotion to come through,
there is nothing better. That is the real beauty of the eyes and I shall not be
fooled by all these businesses trying to sell me lengthening mascara so I can
finally fit into their beauty standards because I have known love and seen real
beauty in their true form and I shall never forget what it taught me.
I hope you
know your value lays far beyond your physical appearance and that you can live
by that believe because there is nothing more beautiful that somebody that stands
their value.
My
spaghetti legs.
I don’t
like how skinny and muscle-less my legs are, my boyfriend says they look funny and
by funny I am sure he means ugly and being perceived as ugly to him in my head
is the most devastating feeling, having to be ashamed of a part of me I have no
control over like it is my anatomy and how I am constructed seems pointless and
unfair but this is not the first time my legs have been mucked and so I have learned
to hate them for it, for making me a joke in the eyes of other people idle
enough to be concerned by my body. I guess my body is just a funny subject to
discuss once they have run out of conversation topics or maybe they simply feel
the need to point out how skinny they are because they don’t have anything more
meaningful to say and are insensitive in regards to other people’s feelings. I
did not need another insecurity to worry about, but thanks a lot, perhaps it is
time to unlearn what you have taught me and remind myself that my legs aren’t
here to fulfill your ridiculous beauty expectations. Have you ever met the kind
of person that solely discusses topics regarding what he or she sees, or what
is directly in front of or around them?, describing exclusively the suffice of
a person or an scenario since they can’t see any further than that, and so
maybe it is not my legs that are the problem, but rather their inability to
look beyond them.
At the end
of the day, after walking home from dancing on the streets and running around
barefoot by the park, after feeling each grass leaf with each toe and all the
tickle that has made me scream with laughter, after jumping over all of your
bullshit, I have made it a point to forgive my legs in 2020 and stop blaming
your lack of vision on them. At the end of the day, when I am laying in bed,
when I am saying my goodbyes, I feel nothing but grateful for all that I have
lived and all that I am and have had the opportunity to become, including my
legs and their own journey, and how they took me all the way through mine, step
by step, relentlessly, every time.
