“I remember back when sought pride was in being small, soft and pretty like a strawberry, the sweetest though just outwardly. Such a facade if I may be candid, my heart wasn’t in being eye candy, I was too wayward to be Her Majesty.
Wasted so much time learning tricks to temper my soul, encode it with riddles to not be solved, in spite of results being admittedly poor. Anyways, I’m done with these woes, the storm long ended and it’s been serene aboard, those flows hardly rock my core.
Why? Well, while coming of age, I learnt that trusting my sense came above everything else, as I owed to myself and no one else, for who I once couldn’t be, couldn’t process.
Still, to date, the social pressure to embody the past lasts, to emerge as a graceful bud from the settled dust. That’s why having a strong essence remains a calming must, can’t be naive nor a pseudo-iconoclast.
Might face many detours, yet the guiding self-love ought to remain pure, since to villainy ain’t no one immune. And a pigeon can’t deliver an olive in a typhoon, and new seeds can’t be planted in poisoned wounds.
It took me years, but I finally realise that healing is nothing but maquillage if I lose myself in the prize: it is the journey that makes one rise, it is not about destroying but unpacking the guise.
Because, really, even back in the black and white world I was still in colour. Even when the world is grey now I am still in colour. It took me a while to understand that I have always been, despite all, still in colour. And, from my first second down through the eternal dawn, I will be still in colour.”
Written by Emilie F. Yaakaar
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