…to be allowed to be independent, hard-working, ambitious, passionate, and still a feminine, somewhat girly, kind-hearted woman?
Can I be allowed to think for myself, make decisions about my career and my education, be assertive and professional, set ridiculously high academic goals, and yet still nurture the old-fashioned dream of experiencing pregnancy and raising my own family (with two functional parents!), cooking and taking care of my own house, and growing a garden?
I guess it is too much to ask. Because I don’t fit into a box, people don’t know what to do with me. I just don’t make sense! I’m a Christian, a music major, wickedly sarcastic, a bit too tall but not tall enough to be the attractive kind of tall, slightly rebellious and yet still ridiculously old-fashioned with high ideals, pretty darn goofy, becoming more and more cynical and even a little potty-mouthed as college knocks the stuffing right outta me… yikes. What a mess. I mean, I don’t even know what to do with me.
Apparently I’m not “dateable,” because I am not in the game (whatever the heck “the game” is). Well fine then! I don’t really have enough hours in the day as it is, and I’m not willing to devote emotional energy to a romantic relationship unless it’s really worth it. Sorry.
(Also I’m scarred from my own family and past relationships and you could say I’m bitter and mostly really just scared and I have no idea how to be asked out on a date or how to ask someone out on a date so I just act like a dude all like chill and “what’s up bro” and then people start to wonder if I’m lesbian and then my life gets even more complicated and then I think to myself I’m going to open up a convent for scared, feminist, female composers……………….)
I’m not “wife material” (and that’s degrading!) because I am too stubborn, too loud, apparently not all nice and lovely and wifey anymore, and I didn’t come to college to find a husband and I will not drop out of college to get married and have kids. Imagine that.
Well, that about crosses me off of everyone’s lists. Oh bother. Guess I’ll just keep going like I have been for the last two years. Blissfully free, independent, and dealing with all my emotions: love and joy and grief and actual depression. Figuring out who I am. Because all I seem to have learned so far is that the older I get, the less I know.
Here’s to life, bruh.