She’s Just A Girl

She was raised in a house where she learned to listen to the tone of oncoming footsteps,

Where she kept her eyes to the floor, fearing the mistake of making eye contact,

Often obediently silenced by a bare hand connecting with bare skin,

And the most reassuring sound was a snore emanating from an adjoining bedroom, letting her know she was finally safe, if only for a little while.

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She learned to read people before they uttered a word, spending her days diligently watching humanities undercurrents,

Reading the fine print of a glance, a smile, an unspoken word,

Ready, always ready, to react in a split second to the change of the wind,

Constantly on high alert, vigilantly waiting and watching, always anticipating.

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She learned to silence her voice, to accept life on another’s terms,

To feel shame if she tried to express her emotions, guilt for ever feeling angry or sad,

Taught to internalise such emotions as they made her unlovable,

Convinced her time and time again she should be seen, but never heard, and if she lost control, she learned she was selfish, egotistical and an outcast to society.

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She learned her childhood lessons well,

So well, she went on to choose partners of a similar vein,

Relationships where she’d constantly walk on eggshells, anticipating, forever waiting,

Consistently ridiculed, belittled, often told she can’t accept the truth of the terrible girl she’d become.

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She knew she was never enough, while in contradiction to being too much of this, too little of that,

There has never been a Goldilocks solution of being just enough, of being just right,

She was just a shadow of those deemed worthy, those that’d throw her a scrap of their time,

Those that would only ever stick around for a while, casting her breadcrumbs until her replacement was found.

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Is it any wonder that she shatters in the face of conflict,

That she goes into melt down, as she’s so often accused?

Is it any wonder that she begs to be seen, to be heard, to be understood,

That she pleads for validation?

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But no, those superior beings need forgiveness without resolution,

To sweep her emotions, her sense of betrayal, her inadequate feelings, under the proverbial rug,

How dare she ask others to face the consequences of their actions,

To help heal her pain, her past traumas, her battered psyche!

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She knows how flawed she is, she’s certainly told often enough by those that love her,

She knows she’s just a shadow of a human being, an outcast,

She understands she should feel gratitude for the pittance of love cast her way,

The scraps that are ripped away at a moment’s notice; never guaranteed.

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Why the surprise then that she prefers her solitude, her preference to isolate from society?

It’s where she’s learned she fits best,

On the outskirts of existence, her comfort zone,

Her peace, the only place she’s ever felt totally safe!

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So, if you see her out there alone, a shadow off in the distance,

Please understand she’s exhausted, what with having to always be on guard, never relaxed,

For she’s her only form of protection, the only one she can trust,

The only safe constant, solitarily fighting this war we call life, just trying to survive the day.