Write. Just write. For twenty minutes. Here we go:
Bold, carefree, confident, strong, badass; these are the words my family and friends use to describe me. But they don’t know, nobody knows that its all just an exterior. Inside, I am a scared, paranoid girl.
I am scared of getting raped. When I am out with my girls, dancing and chilling and pretending I don’t give a fuck, my mind is concentrated on my drink making sure no one is spiking it, my eyes are all over the room seeing if anyone is staring at us. I get paranoid when a guy approaches me, what if he rapes me or throw acid on me if I reject him? (This happens in India, I am not just making it up.)
I am scared of not making it on my own. Belonging to a rich family, people think the girls don’t have to work and they will be married into another wealthy family and her life is going to be perfect. But I don’t want to be anyone’s arm candy. Having a stable job and living without any financial support from my parents, this is what I crave. But can I do it? Do I have it in me? And what if I can’t? I am just another bimbo who is good for nothing except gossiping and shopping?
I am scared of letting down my parents. They think their opinion doesn’t matter to me, that I don’t care anyone but me. And that’s alright. If you let them see that you care, they take advantage. Trust me. But in the end I do want to make them happy. I do want them to be proud of me. Even if I couldn’t be an engineer like they wanted.
And above all; I am scared of not falling in love. All my friends believe in love, even after they have been heartbroken many times. Its like I am surrounded by Charlottes and I am the only Samantha. Straight up, I am a material girl. If I’ll ever be asked to choose between full time job or full time love, the former is going to be my choice; any day. But deep, deep, way deep down I wish that I find that feeling which changes my preference.
Okayyy, that’s pretty small. Well, my brain is slow.