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27 December 2015 @ 07:00 pm
194: Behold the Lady Me  
I am Francesca, and my namesake is derived from a French term that means "FREE". And at around eight in the morning on a humid Sunday morning, someone I truly cared about asked me if I ever wondered what cost my freedom entails. His words etched a mark and made me feel very ashamed. I thought I was always prepared to pay the price for my selfishness, pride and solitude. I thought myself brave and strong, and believed that if I impose my will and perspective on some things and certain people all the time, I will never have to find myself at fault when dealing with feelings I don't want to comprehend. I have a strong sense of who I am and what I don't want to be for anyone's sake, and even when I find myself able to love and share my person, I will never stop trying to find or create reasons not to do it anyway. I'm not some lionness that needs to be tamed. I'm not a person of any special or unique privilege who needs to be catered to or make specific adjustments for. I never claim to be any of these things but over the course of my entitlement and reticence, I might as well insist that I'd be treated differently that I tend to overstep on people's feelings in return. I only noticed this now which is really shameful, considering I've always believed myself to be self-aware and insightful. I know that I expect the best treatment because I know I don't deserve any less, but there's also a thin line between true confidence and mere arrogance, and I've been skipping between these sides for a very long time.

Everyone wants to be loved but I demand a kind of love that's often unrealistic and only according to what I think I require. I'm not brave. I'm stubborn. I'm not strong. I'm just very, very good at never admitting defeat or surrender even when there's no reason to fight against anybody to begin with. I could always change and life always provides opportunuties for growth and reconciliation but now I'm starting to think I don't deserve either of these things, at least not yet anyway. I've been fearful of my own feelings regarding people I care about but choose to invalidate somehow whenever I shut them out, accuse them for being inadequate or just plain make excuses to justify why I have to reject them. I would claim I need the space, the time--the freedom to choose and be respected for making such choices. But the truth is I just want to be free of everyone's grasp. I don't want to belong to anybody else because the thought that I'm not always responsible for my happiness frightens me like fuck. I need to impose my individuality. I need to believe I'm self-sufficient; that I'm Miss Independent.

Where had these narrow views about my identity gotten me now?

I lost two of my dearest friends whom I viciously pushed to change just to keep up with my pace, unmindful of their own struggles, as I stare them down my gilded cage. I broke the heart of a man who only wanted to love me, but I fought him at every turn until I finally lost his trust. Is this the freedom you strived so hard to preserve, Francesca? You are only as free as the insecurities that hold you down and take possession of you. You pathetic, deluded fool.
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Feeling: morosemorose
Listening to: "Imaginary" by Evanescence