It's been quite some time I checked on my privileges. Too busy dwelling in heartbreaks and disappointments, anxieties and fears, too tired after conscious efforts at being happy and looking powerful (fake it till you make it,right?).
No struggle is small. No two struggles are comparable. And you should not judge other's struggles. But I can judge mine right, without gaslighting ofcourse.
My tragedies, you know, are indeed undesirable and painful. But I was privileged even amidst them. My most painful tragedies have been people leaving. But whenever people left, there were people around.
I was taken care of. I was cared for. I was checked on. I was understood.
And however silly and common they sound, I know I was privileged. Heartbroken me had the means to chocolate ice cream tubs and cliche movies, and had the people who offered to buy it for me and watch it with me.
But the best of all? Respecting my silences. Letting me go. Leaving me alone. Not disregarding my emotions.
Like I told, I was privileged even in tragedies.
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Thoughts of a Young Lady
RandomPhilosophical and poetic thoughts of a young lady on a fine evening or a late night or a scorching afternoon
