It's me. I resist

It’s me. I’m still holding on.

Usually people tell me that I have all the reasons to be thankful for my life.

But I can’t feel that.

I’m 19 and I’m still afraid

To talk about what happened that day.

So I’m writing this poem.

I’m 19 and I’m tired.

I’m tired to feel like a intruder in my own body

I’m tired to hope to a future with somebody

I'm tired of hearing how I should be

When all I want is to be set free

From the fear being alone in a world surrounded by stone.

I was always the strong friend of the group,

The one with a quiet life

And I never allowed myself to speak my thoughts.

So I’m writing this poem.

How long do I have to wait until someone will say that „you’re enough”?

How long do I have to wait until this boy in my class won’t touch me even if I don’t let him?

„He's just friendly with you", they told me, making me seem delusional and dramatic.

When is it no longer necessary to say to the first date, "Sorry, but I'm Roma, are you interested in continuing to talk to me?”

I’m exhausted to read about rape culture

When that boy is posing like a great picture

I’m exhausted „to be more feminine” in a floral dress

When I don’t even like to wear that mess.

I was 10.

I once heard that only men can do bad things to women, and at that moment

I thought to myself, "I am ok with her, she can do nothing to me".

Crazy right?

When you were a kid, did some birds sing a kind of sad music to you?

Because for me it’s true.

How could I know if I liked it,if I felt comfortable,if it was right when I was just a little human being?

Or did I accept because she told me to accept?

She got up and left me in a pool of tears and thoughts.

My body started shaking and I couldn't control it. It didn't listen to me, it kept shaking, even though I said "it's ok, you have to stop.

God knew what happened but He didn’t protect me. It seems to me now that He wants to avenge himself by giving me the best life possible.

All I wanted was time to stop and to disappear from that cruel reality.

Again.

I love colorful flowers

I love singing for hours

I love to inhale cold air

I love to see the sea, to hear how waves are crashing against the rocks and to be sprinkled with salty water

I love to exist. But for how long?

I keep pushing again and again and again.

I keep fighting for my girl friends,for my family, for my comunity against a pathetic system.

But for me who is gonna fight ? What do I end up with?