I Would Rather Be Myself

I would very much rather be hated by those threatened by authenticity and raw passion. I would rather have the audacity to commit the outrageous offence of “being a woman who’s not terrified by the idea of being herself, fully and unapologetically”. In an ocean of rusty souls who dare to call their  lackluster vacant personalities an “Aesthetic labyrinth”, imitation is praised and originality is assaulted.

I refuse to familiarize myself with the infamous social formulas needed to diminish my light, I would rather blind you by it.

I refuse to dehydrate my garden for you to be comfortable with your volitional drought, I would rather continue to nourish it.

If I have to morph into another socially constructed mediocre entity, which you can handle and contain and then bestow with your acceptance, then I beg you to keep your acceptance for yourself; I guarantee i will never ask for it.

In a crowd of pretentious liberals, ignorant of the flags they raise, I dare you to utter the untainted concepts behind these notions that they precieve as trends without being attacked by them.  I warn you, better men have tried to escape that deafening sound of blatant disrespect for matters of human Rights, and failed.

I will not allow you to reduce my intellectuality to trivial inconsequential small talk, I would rather unearth the  stories of your soul.


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