Oh Diary! Chapter VI

Chapter 6, we're here. I'm speechless. I have been writing quite a lot these couple of years, not frequent but better than before. Although I think the next chapter would not be written soon. Hi diary, I missed you. A lot of things happened since the last time I wrote my heart out to you. I've got a job, as a teacher. I'm really nervous about the placement and the job overall but I'm excited that I will finally have money. But the thing is diary, today I don't actually want to talk about my job, the documentation workload, my friends' graduation gifts or the shopping that I have to complete by next week. I want to talk about myself (surprise surprise). 

Am I unattractive? Repulsive and hideous? This phase. It is not happening again is it. This constant thought that bugs my mind repeatedly. I was unattractive right? was? As in past tense. or still is? I feel like I am trying to achieve the unnatainable. The days of being overweight and dark are one for the history books. I grew out of that. I spend days and nights constraining myself from going outside so that my skin would get fairer. I starved my body to the thinnest line I possibly could so that I was not fat anymore. After all this, am I still not pretty? Now, I get called a man repeatedly. My God given features are considered masculine. For it is a Greek God with a hooked nose, not a Goddess. The lines on my jaw are too sharp for many, not very feminine they say. A cross dresser would be a better title for me then say, a woman. I have to constantly prove my femininity to people. It does not help that my height and the width of my shoulders resembles that of male athletes. I feel so sad. That's it. I feel sad and numb. Nothing more. 

I just want to look like a woman that I am. The constant misgendering, questions on whether I am of XX or XY chromosomes. I am tired really. I fucking hate this world. I fucking hate the beauty standard. Is it such a crime, a female that possesses male-like features feels a tiny bit beautiful. When I'm out now, there is a voice telling me to keep myself grounded for I look nothing like what I was born to be. Looking through a glass at the abundance of femme beauties, wondering and wishing. Praying. I just want to be a woman, feel like a woman, laugh like a woman. Why make me a woman if you're going to make the rest of me a man God? Is that fair? To a woman like me. 

To add on, I am 25 but my love life is yet to birth. Do I not possess the power that have been passed down from generations? The charm that is innate to every woman. The ability to make a man feel like a child, to feel shy by holding my hands. Why is it quick for them to caress my breasts but slow to just admire my eyes. I do have beautiful eyes, I really do. You would notice it if you stared long enough. Am I put on this earth to serve lust? Am I lust? Why can't I be love? I want to be love as well. I feel like breaking, like dried clay cracking. I have so much love to give but is it too much for one to recieve? I want to be loved by the opposite gender. I want a man to love me so much that it hurts. That it kills him to see a tear collect in my tear duct. I don't have this kind of affection from my father, so why can't I have this from a stranger. I long to be loved, to be cherished, to be kissed with passion. But I am a mere woman. A woman that is not even considered woman to so many. A flawed woman with nothing to offer than a lump of chest fat and a hole. Men want women with beautiful faces. But a beautiful face is not something I could possibly possess. For the only thing I could afford is this, mismatched, manly face. Far from beauty, even further from the standard. What do I have to offer. 

-chapter six, the end-