Am I REALLY in love, or am I not?

She confessed to her journal on one stormy night, after she’d watched a movie that revived feelings in her:

This is the first time I am expressing this to a person besides her. I am having so many thoughts about this experience that have changed my life, probably forever.

Few years ago, I fell in love. With a girl. I have lived the sweetest days because of her. I was very young and naive but she took my hand and guided me through this life, with all her love. I dare to say she was my best experience. I have had my best and happiest moments with her. After a while, we had to break up and we disappeared from each others lives for a long time. We reconnected later, but it isn’t the same. Things have changed.

What matters the most is what happened after this relationship. Now, I am more independent. And I have thoughts about my sexuality. Am I really into girls? Or was I just wasting time? I thought she was just someone who I liked wasting time with, and that I’m not really into girls. I had to convince myself that it’s for the best and being a lesbian is forbidden, only God knows what could happen if my family knew only about my thoughts regarding this matter. Therefore, I decided to give men a try. I failed. I terribly failed and didn’t want to even imagine being in a relationship with them.

After I had failed connecting with few guys, I realised that I am just not attracted to them. But, ironically, I am engaged to a man because according to my family’s traditions, a girl cannot live her life independently and needs a man.

However, after I settled in a very good job, a job that I’m interested in, I just never felt that I could count on a man. And the presence of my ex-girlfriend actually had taught how to be so strong and never depend on anyone else

To her, I am so grateful I had you in my life.


How to make women feel even more insecure?

Yeah, as it sounds, when you talk like this, it makes some of us even more insecure about being around you.

I’ve recently come across a YouTube video in which a man speaks about things that women shouldn’t feel insecure about, and few of them were the stretch marks, thigh gaps, height and weight. And each time he advises women to feel secure with those things he says something like: “….. because believe me every time a man sees you he would be like ‘maaan ooh yees'” in a weird sexual way. Is this sexual language now considered flattering?

One important point, since when does all women care about what men say? Yes, some of us feel insecure, but sexual language won’t solve that issue.

It is important to empower women and spread the awareness that it really does not matter what people say about you. If you are comfortable with your body, that’s perfect. And even if YOU want to change the way you look, it still your own business.


Do you know how she lives?

She’s living their life. Doing what they want her to do. Behaving like they told her to behave. Wearing to please them. Even marrying the person they chose. She did that because she never thought she could say NO. She spent her life living theirs.

The moment she decided to live her own life, they prevented her. She neither lived her life nor theirs.

Her spirit is broken. Her life is darkened. Her heart is shattered. Her smile is never seen again.

Slowly, day after day, night after night, moment after moment, something kept killing her so slow. She’s died, anyway. They didn’t care.


She was sweating, so tired of pulling him all the way towards the corner, leaned his head on the wall. She dragged a chair and sat down, took a deep breath. She looked at him dead in the eyes and said “see, I am happy now.” She stood up, so confused, so exhausted, and brought a bottle of wine and a glass. She poured the wine. “I bet you would have wanted some, huh?” she said, mockingly. “I am even happier right now.”

“What do you think of me now? Uh a- Am I still that use- useless, stupid, dep-ressed, old woman? As you con-fident-ly texted her describing me.” said, shaking.

A minute later, she faced the other side of the room. ” Uhh I cannot even utter an understandable sentence. I need not to show him my fears. No, no, no. It doesn’t matter anyway, he cannot speak now. It is my turn to speak. He had his chance for 15 years now.” she whispered.

She faced him, again. Kept looking at his face. “oh darling, you had a nice, really nice face. I bet that’s what she admired about you before knowing about your marriage. It isn’t about cheating, you know. It’s all about how dare you allow yourself to be touched by a different person, saying exactly what you have said to me. It is disgusting. You were disgusting, but that will no longer happen, no more cheating. “

“Remember yesterday? WHEN YOU SAID I AM CRAZY WOMAN WHO’S MISERABLY DEPRESSED? I guess we can’t tell who’s more miserable now, CAN WE?” she shouted at his face.

She turned to the other side of the room. She cried. She’s drowned in tears. She finished her glass and dropped it. It broke. She cried even more.

She stood up and dragged him by his hands until she reached the basement. She lit a fire with his body. Killing him wasn’t enough for her. She needed to see him burn.

She walked right out the house, and never came back.

That Night, That feeling

One day, Liz sat on the bench at the park. Watching people passing by, reading through their body language, trying to read their stories only by the look of them. She is used to do this to pass time, alone. A male adult, probably in his early thirties, walking, forcing his hands around the waist of a much younger girl. He seemed afraid anyone would catch that move, looking right and left in a swift. Her body clearly shows everything else but acceptance of his touch. That caught Liz’s attention right away. She kept following them with her eyes, reading their lips and movements. Liz was sure that the poor girl was frightened, but cannot say a word. That man was someone the girl knows very well, otherwise, he would not risk taking her to such a public place where anyone could know him or her.

A few moments later, Liz is sure he is her uncle. He sat with the girl near Liz, which enabled her to listen to their conversation with shock. He told her to keep quiet because no one will believe a young, naive girl anyway.
He ordered her to accept his disgusting touches and whatever he does to her because that’s why girls are born. The little girl cannot do anything but shaking her head with her eyes full of tears and fear.

That moment took Liz back to that horrendous night. To the night when she was so naive and trusted everyone. To the night when she realised how weak she was, physically and emotionally.

That night was so dark that it was even impossible to recognise the faces of the people sitting in the balcony at the time. It was not so long since Liz and her sisters arrived at their uncle’s house for the first time. He was merely a stranger to them, but they were just obliged to visit him.
Liz’s uncle, Davis, started a discussion of things they fear. Liz proudly stated that she is not afraid of anything at all. Their uncle said he has a game where he explained the rules, which involved force in holding the player and the challenge is to try to get away from him. Among her three sisters, who were there that night, he chose Liz. She refused, gently, because he’s not really allowed to be that close to her, physically. However, Davis ignored Liz’s refusal and forced himself and touched her body, inappropriately. Liz tried to push him off, but he was so strong that she couldn’t even move an inch. Nobody was able to see what he is actually doing, the whole situation was awkward for the rest of her sisters.

Later, Liz went to the bedroom, shaking, her whole body was shaking of shock and disgust. She never expected it to be that horrifying. She thought she would easily get over it since it was only “touches” and nothing more. She cried. She was shaking and crying so hard that she felt she was dying. Dying of shame, dying of feeling helpless, dying of feeling her privacy had been stolen away from her. She was violently violated. A few minutes later, her uncle simply texted her: “are you upset?” She replied: “no.” He texted again: “are you still adventurous then?” She left it unread.

She could not call for help. She thought it will be always her fault. And no one will believe her. She just kept quiet. She just died a thousand times in silence. She had nightmares. She relived that night every time she had to meet her uncle again. And she will suffer forever.

Liz didn’t know how to save that girl. She waited for her uncle to be distracted and told her a single advice: “sweetheart, speak up now or you will be silenced for the rest of your life.”