Welcome to my night time, coffee-fuelled shit talking post. I haven’t done one of these in a while, but if you’re new to my blog, know that these are probably the most honest and raw posts I’ll ever write. That’s why they’re rare. Sometimes it’s in the form of poetry, other times, like now, it’s just word vomit. I don’t edit these. It’s the time where I’m wired but also tired, and when I’m listening to my night time songs.
One weird thing I’ve been called is ‘strong’. Strong because I can let things go, strong because I can stand by my beliefs, strong because I don’t fall for every guy that talks to me. I don’t know. I don’t know if I like being called strong, because there are certain expectations that come with that label. Am I allowed to cry? Am I allowed to fight for a guy who doesn’t give a shit? Am I allowed to have panic attacks? Am I allowed to be too nervous to walk into a crowded place sometimes?
Because I do all of those things too. And sometimes, that label gets in the way.