Standing on a Pedestal

I didn’t know the day I cut my hair short is when I experienced rebirth.

Physically my head felt lighter as all the weight of dead keratin and memories lifted off my shoulders
You always said that my mane was my main attraction
But when I bleached it you masked your tuts with casual words of ‘you look good’
I knew there was some honesty to that but I heard that the fear you hid. You were scared
Scared that some guy may get your girl attracted
That someone would approach her and talked
Which taps into your deepest insecurity that you’re not good enough for me

As the hairdryer roars right next to my ear, they replayed the times where you barked and I begged and said sorry
Even though there was nothing to be sorry for and I was just scared
Like how you were because my deepest fear then was losing someone who adored me

You did adore me. In your own twisted way, you adored me
You adorn me with the kindness I was willing to give and refuse to accept,
The generosity that eventually made me bankrupt of rationality
So when you put me on that broken pedestal of ideals you saw that others were found my kindness and generosity as something to be fond of

Maybe while I was on that pedestal, some of my wisdom was chipped away when you helped me up
And I allowed open wounds to be infected with your broken ideals so I would become someone worthy of your love.
And standing on that marble slab, rationality bankrupt, I didn’t think the tweets, the praisings, the silence, the jealousy and the questions were all soft screams of how obsessive of a being you can be.

It’s amazing how a change of look could significantly change you
As I stare in that mirror, the girl staring back took me by surprise
She no longer wore jealousy-slashed wounds and claw marks of someone else’s insecurity
She looked tired, probably from descending that pedestal and there were scars of course
but nothing a good smile and makeup wouldn’t hide
I worry that my date that evening would see past the makeup and smiles that I had fresh wounds from descending that pedestal

So I hugged him nervously, cautious and praying to whatever God that was listening that he wouldn’t notice the scabs I tried to hide
“You look good,” he said and a small siren went off as those familiar words ring in my ear so I scanned his calm face for honestly
I stopped myself mid-scan because I will not likened this person to trapped me in my own hair and skin.
So we spent the evening just running our mouths about music and movies over juice
And while doing so I was sure he didn’t see my scars or even if he did…
Even if he did, he made me feel comfortable in my own hair in an evening
As compared to someone who worshipped me for a year.

20 year old millennial in Kuala Lumpur trying to finding herself while sippin on some cendol
Posts created 8

Leave a Reply

Begin typing your search term above and press enter to search. Press ESC to cancel.

Back To Top