I bought myself a pair of socks saying
And it stroke me like a lightning,
uncomfortable truth slapped right on my cheek by a pair of pastel-coloured socks.
And after months of denials, of nodding to please and saying yes but feeling no,
After months of struggling with bad days and grey moods,
perpetually roller-coasting between long laughter and long tears,
I came to the conclusion that coming to compromise with everyone but myself, well,
that isn’t enough.
So I finally realized that I can’t be the perfect daughter,
the spotless friend
or the flawless hostel roommate.
That’s simply not me, that’s simply not my thing.
And that’s fine.
It’s fine that I can’t have a flat stomach after eating a whole pizza,
that I can’t be the next viral singer
or succeed in my first attempts at washing ups, entrepreneurship trials and relationship.
And that’s fine.
But I also figured that the best way to fall asleep with a hint of a smile drawn on my face is accepting what it is that makes me, me,
and water it.
And I might end up all tangled up in my thoughts and walking the stiffest way,
but as long as I do things my way – scratches and scars and all things summed up -,
it’ll all work out
one way or another.
After all,
sprouts aren’t made to be pretty at all times,
they’re a promise of finding a way out.