One of those tangents I go on...

I recently had a conversation with a few friends of mine, and this conversation got me to thinking. They brought it to my attention that the perceptions people have of me may not be as wholesome as they should be, and that maybe I should change a few of my actions in order to curb this dilemma. I was told that the path I am on is not the best path for someone of my emotional stature, and that I would ultimately get hurt one day by the same rules that I play. Where I thought I was a woman, I was told that I am in fact a child. A child in a grown woman's game, and I can't win. This child is bruised and hurt, so she lashes out on members of the opposite sex for revenge. She is immature and a change needs to be made.

I sat in confusion. I was caught off guard by the lack of credit I was given. I never understood how people can assume that a person isn't aware of the impact of their decisions, and the repercussions of such decisions. In the midst of these daggers being thrown at me, I broke down. As emotional as I am, there is only so much criticism I can take from those close to me before I begin to second guess myself. This conversation however was not the first of its kind, and I'm quite sure it will not be the last. On the surface, my breakdown was viewed as a realization of the things I do that are not so becoming of a young lady. What they failed to realize is, I was never a young lady. I was never proper. Never the image of a respectable and acceptable lady. I find these aspects to be draining of creative freedom honestly.

Its quite funny because as I write this now I think back to all the times in my life when I was told to be ladylike. From cussing out boys in my neighborhood, to spitting all the time, to dressing like a boy. I have always run from the stereotypical "ladylike" persona. Nothing about the woman I am today says lady.

Freedom. The freedom of choice, of discretion, of progression, of separation. I fight like a prize boxer against the ties of this societal view of who I am supposed to be. It was never about me proving to someone else that I can be a rebel, or unique, or different. It was never about proving my sexuality or enhancing my ego. It was always about me.

I stand alone, for I don't fit the mold of the cross-legged, lip-locked, conformed, and confused lady. Who is this person? She is not my friend. She is my foe. For her to thrive, I must strive. Will I ever win this battle?

Never before have I tried to explain my actions to anyone else, because never before had I cared. It never made a difference to me whether people understood me or not. I am not to be understood. I am to be accepted. Take me as I am.

Now I begin to think that maybe one cause of my actions is to see who will love me and accept me in spite of my taboos. Who will see past what I am supposed to be, and love me for me. I say it time and again. I am Nandi. I am beautiful. I am strong. I am determined. I am head-strong. I am difficult. I am stubborn. I am what I have come to be. Take it or leave it.

And I can go on forever.

I'm not sure if my point was made.

Or if you even care.

You don't have to understand or even agree.

Just accept it. Accept me.

You just may like it.