Reflection

When I was eight years old, I longed to be a woman –
to be beautiful and charming in every way I could.
I wanted to be grown up – to love and be loved in return –
for what else was there to womanhood? I never understood.
What else could little girls ask for, what could they want to become
if not a Hollywood starlit? I did not know what I should
expect from being a woman, if that day ever arrived.
I anticipated everything aside from what I knew would.
In my heart, I knew I would be like no one else before,
like nothing I’d expected; like nothing that I could.
I knew I would be different, even hoped it would be so,
but why couldn’t it be encouraged? I never understood.

It’s been ten years since this longing’s start, and I’m a girl at best.
I still feel the need to grow up, and my heart knows I should.
All I wanted was respect, though I can’t give that to myself;
all that eight-year-old girl wanted was normalcy, and she knew I would
want nothing but acceptance, if I were being honest.
But when am I honest? I know I never could
let myself go completely and show the world what’s inside.
Why flaws cannot be embraced, I never understood.
Maybe I am a woman now, with my imperfect qualities,
and stubbornness in doing whatever I feel I should;
maybe there’s no criteria for a woman’s behavior or status.
Reality slowly sets in, just as I feared it would.

I won’t grow into anything that isn’t in my blue prints,
and my emotions can’t be altered, even if they could.
I’ll never be the woman that eight-year-old girl had in mind,
and I’ll never understand the things I’ve never understood.
However, I’ll be happy, and I’ll love and be loved in return,
I’ll be beautiful and charming and I’ll feel the way I should.
I need not be deemed perfect, for I am comfortable as me,
and I love the woman I am, as I always knew I would.