Not That Kind Of Girl

There are days when I wish I was a normal girl. There are days when I envy those who can show their vulnerability. Those pretty, elfin girls with their big, expressive eyes, and their fragile dainty limbs, who men rush to protect if somebody so much as looks at them in the wrong way.

Unfortunately, I have never been able to let my guard down enough to be one of those girls. I am the strong, impassive type; outspoken and independent, able to deal with anything life throws at me. Beside them, the women that men want, I feel over-large and awkward, my hands and feet too big, my features too masculine.

Little does anyone know that, deep down, really deep down underneath so many layers, resides a little, lost girl, desperate for her knight in shining armour to sweep in and rescue her. 

She is well hidden though, and will probably never see the light of day. Instead, I will remain awkward and socially inept, unable to voice my emotions or ask for help, always the capable one. 

Never the princess in the tower, always the warrior with the flaming sword, aloof and distant. Alone.


Do you ever have those days when you feel alone? I don’t mean lonely, when you crave the company of another person. I’m not lonely, not in the slightest. I have my son, I have my cats. I have social media, where a plethora of “friends” await confirmation of my, and anybody else’s, attention. I have no need to feel lonely. 

But sometimes, every so often, the solitary existence I have chosen to lead, calm and peaceful and free from drama, feels empty, and I wonder to myself, would anybody actually notice if I just…… disappeared?

Of course, I know that they would. There are those that depend on me, and who I couldn’t be without. But what about friends I haven’t seen in a while, who were once so close? Would they notice my absence? They once relied on me so much, yet now their life goes on without me. I am left looking in from the sidelines, forgotten and unnecessary, when I was once right in the thick of it, the centre of attention. But it wasn’t enough. I chose to move on, to “better myself”, assuming that nothing would change. My choice. Of course they would move on, eventually. I was a fool to imagine otherwise. 

Or maybe I am just feeling sorry for myself. Who knows.