Chaennie one shots

Who we love

English.

Inspired by Sam Smith and Ed Sheeran's song, who we love. (If you can't tell by now, I'm currently obsessed with Sam Smith AGAIN).

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Different.

I remember feeling different ever since I was little. Different how? That I'm not so sure of. All I know is before I was born, the doctor and my parents thought I was a boy, but when I was born a girl— it shocked everyone.

It was a happy shock for my parents though, especially for my father who was really looking forward to having a daughter.

Aside from that I guess is when my parents noticed that I used to despise dolls and dresses, and only wanted to look cool and play tag with boys. Eventually when I grew up, I began to love looking like a princess. It took me longer than most to start dressing up and doing make-ups, but it did happen. 

Once, my senior physical education teacher in high school told me that I was a late bloomer.

"Know one thing, Jennie... It's never too late. So, take all the time you need and when you're ready, we will be waiting for you to bloom."

From then on, I finally understood. I was late for most things in life, but it didn't mean it was less meaningful or fun. In fact, it was quite the opposite.

Being a late bloomer also meant knowing and realizing things a little late.

"Mommy, why are they hiding there kissing?" My 13-year-old self once asked my mom when I saw two middle-aged women kissing in a dark alleyway, one evening.

"Because they love each other." Was my mom's only response.

"I don't understand. Why do they have to kiss in the dark?"

"Someday you'll understand why." My mom flashed me a meaningful smile and caressed my hair. 

There was warmth in my mother's every move, not to mention warmth in her smile and eyes. My mother was a caring soul, and a person whose understanding is unbounded.

Despite the tradition and norms around me, she was the one who encourages me to never conform to anything. I must be brave. I must be strong. I must have courage, and I must be kind.

My mother taught me to fight to have my voice heard, especially when there's injustice. She pushes me to get out of my comfort zone and explore every opportunity that comes my way.

But most of all, my mother taught me to love myself. She taught me to treat myself better and to know my worth. Mother used to say that I must be in sync with both my mind and soul, and that my heart always knows the answer.

But despite her teaching me so much, there are things I experience that I thought were wrong or should not have been happening.

Like when I was 15, and I gushed to her how beautiful and talented and kind my classmate was. I told her I wanted to get to know her better and be close to her, and when she said I should ask her to be my friend, I remember creasing my brows and shaking my head. When she asked what was wrong, the only thing I said in response was...

"I don't want her to be just my friend, ma. I want her to be more than that." I look down and chew the bottom of my lip, having a hard time describing what I feel to her.

"I want her to be my best friend, but more than that."

"I want her to be my sister— no, not exactly my sister, but... ugh!" I sigh in frustration, falling back the couch.