Should Have Seen It Coming

 

Yesterday, I did a beauty treatment called lash lift. As the name suggests, it's supposed to give a lift to your eyelash, as in push up bra. I regret it.

My lashes are categorized thin and short, the beauticitian told me. Okay, I think, I know I'm not up to the standart but at least she's not pulling punches. Since she's the expert, she should know better of what to do to enhance the lacking in my lashes. I proceeded with caution.

In god honest truth, I didn't enjoy the process of this treatment. I didn't feel relax nor excited to see the result. I just wanted it to be done. My friend was there with me, hyping me up, saying I'd look as pretty as those Insta baddies. Hmm, yeah, I mean, I was never interested in them so, whatever?

The long hour finally passed. I looked in the mirror. Oh, yeah, this probably can be pretty cool, I think. Then I changed my mind the next morning I woke up with lashes STICKING to my eyelid. They didn't look anywhere near flattering. They were stiff and looked fried. I was pissed.

At the end of the day, I got sad looking at my lashes. I was fine with them as they were. They're not much, but I didn't have the need to always looked like a certified pretty girl on the internet. Bottom line, I was fine with how I looked, I accepted it with all my heart. The sadness came from the fact that someone else could say something about me and made me think I needed a fix in my appearance. That someone, I have to admit, made me feel like what I was then was not good enough. And being not good enough is easily a trigger for me.

Now I have to live with not only being less than the common beauty standart, but also, my lashes look dead and pissed me off all the time.

Yep.

I Always Wonder

 

A text came in. A picture of stacking books, one of them is Rumi. I instantly remember a promise. He said it's my birthday, I should have asked something. I asked for Rumi, the poet, anything he wrote, I desired. It was a year ago. I haven't owned any of Rumi's. He just bought one, but not for me.

One of Those Mornings

 

My mom once told me that the older I got, the clearer it would be to differ the bad from the good. I believed it. I saw growing older, turning into an adult, meant you had everything figured out. You held your values firm, you had your mind resoluted, you had this map of what would you do in life you basically traced it to reach the finish line. And you wanted to be a good person. That's a good foundation, right? You just wanted to be good so everything fell after was in the work of achieving that.

Then I arrived in a phase where that idea was not 100% accurate, causing a spiralling mental, a disruption of believe and later, an erupting anger for the elders who seemed to simplify what it was to grow up. I was prepared for a straight lane: good degree, a career and white fence house. No one groomed me for a thunder storm. I was caught by surprised. Then spending most of my 20s cursing the north star.

I was angry. I felt as if I got deceived real bad.

I wrote about this narrative for almost a decade now. You can always track them to my old posts. I wrote a lot of Is here, but that's simply the sole purpose of this medium. For me to get angry. Because I don't get to do that in real world. Call it cowardice or probably, despite all the catastrophy, being awfuly considerate roots deep in me to the point of swallowing the lump back inside instead of nastily vomit it out. I don't get to get angry here. I tried. But there's always justification for treating me such, and never enough damage to actually see me as a cripple. I didn't want to make the enemy of a noble cause, so I dug a pit to hide a part of myself.

I am angry. Sometimes.

This morning I woke up to a serene silence, which envelope me like a fetus with a fear of getting flushed out to the real world. I had it good, peaceful, slowly groove to do my cores. The day was still, as if waiting for me to be ready to join its stream. I was feeling nothing in particular, actually got carried a way with the currents of my thought, then......the anger hit me. Slowly, waking up from its corner, then.....red flamming and thighten chest. I got sucked, or probably I've surrendered already from the beginning of it arised.

Still, not good enough to say I am crippled.