Behind Her Strength

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic
A young girl is dealing with the stress of having to hide her weakness.

Submitted: August 13, 2012

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Submitted: August 13, 2012




Sometimes, I hate strength. Strength leaves no room for weakness; it blocks your ability to cry. It is utterly overwhelming. Strength only starts to crack in the depths of the night when you have no one to face but yourself. Then, the tears come. Without stopping. A whisper of a shadow is all that remains of the front you once put up. Your wall breaks, letting loose all the pain that had been stifled away. Once the sun goes down, weakness is emancipated. Even though you’re alone, your demons from previous days, months, even years are back. The more you focus on one, the worse the rest seem. Even the most trivial situation are no longer that.

Strength isn’t always becoming. When you lose the ability to display your fear you are no longer a person. You’re only an object awaiting judgment. It is all too easy to judge a thing. There’s no guilt attached; why would it care? That’s all you are, just an it. A cold and callus shell of the person you really are.

I wish I had that raw strength that one may begin to posses once they are fully established in who they are. It was incredibly easy to pretend the rumors didn’t bother me, just as the glares and fully inappropriate comments didn’t either. But they did. They still do. I laughed off the outrageous ones. I would joke and say how flattering it was to have attention.

I understand that their lack of self worth is the reason they said what they said. That their insecurity in themselves is just a lack of strength. I pity them. Strength is a double-edged sword. I wish I had the strength to not be effected but my ability to fake my strength was the reason it started in the first place.

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