A flower has dulled
"You oedrmt t aoeeen, that's why you have no period."
The ignorance was insufferable.
As I visualized the knife to go with my unbearable chest pain, it began to twist with the realization that I've already told her how much it bothered me. A simple stream of blood meant so much more to me than anyone else had spoken:
It is was my femininity. A coveted strength that, with little else, was freely given to me. As girls, it was for giggling and laughter, to speculate how the stars and planets could possibly exist on the same plane as our womanhood.
It was my tears to cry and my rest to lie in. My reason to give grace, not only to others, but myself. To forgive my outbursts, my awkward spots, a bloated body, and my distaste for PE. Because of that blood, then I could see my humanness and tolerate it. And it's gone. It left me as empty tears leave my eyes. As a bed of needles undoes my stitching.
That is how much it means to me. How badly I want it back.
People will ruin their bodies for it, with pills that can kill. Yearning, for a privilege they were not given. It stings, although, they do not have to feel the pain of having a gift ripped from their hands. I grip onto this hope lie that it will come back, that it's never left me. Perhaps it is dormant, as a volcano must have lava for it to not be not but a hill. I hope lie, because I am hollow without it to fill me.
I twist and turn, in agony as I distort my limbs to cope, to reach, a truth I mustn't accept. I pray. I write on soggy pages willing it wishing it to be a repentance that receives alms . . .but a heavy boulder promises to fall, and I, I'm without strength to push back.
It is a hard. It's painful and unrelenting. Even so, it's a gift nonetheless. So, I will listen and say nothing as this monumental sword explores my chest. The bloody words have breached my heart and I throw up my soul that has been thoroughly chewed.
But. . .an itch prods me. A temptation far away, albeit within my grasp. My fingertips graze its whispers, as natural as the apple and just as devastating. It sings sweet lullabies in my listening ears and promises to hold me together...it tells me to msuectlfy
Today I will bleed with or without God's will.
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125,021 Literary Works • 672,739 Reviews
Ok I realise I am horrid at anagrams or whatever it means to rearrange words so I’m already stuck at the crossed-out letters xd
But I am already intrigued by the topic of the story. Nobody really wants to talk abt periods, it seems. So let’s go!
Hmm can’t say I relate tho. I understand the thought of equating bleeding with femininity and that not having that can be…feel excluding but it’s also very harsh to think that. I don’t understand just how this part can be ripped away, except maybe old age but the narrator is too…dramatic to be in their forties, I feel. Also the descriptor of the knife cutting away makes me think that there’s something else going on. Maybe bc of a medical issue the narrator can no longer have periods? Or maybe they’re pregnant but don’t want that? There is this peculiar line abt the sword exploring the chest…
It is indeed a very intriguing narrative with layers that might be a bit too deep for me. I will say the words flow into each other very nicely so it’s interesting to read.
Thanks for reading. According to Google, up to 28% of young girls will lose their periods due to health reasons. Overtraining, undereating, stress, and EDs can be reasonable medical causes. With this story, I wanted to explore through the lens of someone already suffering with the unseen culture of young teen girls, who finds that parts of their fragile identity is also lost through the consequences of their struggle.
Hi! First of all, this is an amazing read.
I'm not really here to give a constructive review, just wanted to pop to tell how I like your writing style/concept (and to get those review points).
I particularly loved this line:
"I hope/lie, because I am hollow without it to fill me."
Any of the two can really fit the succeeding line, and I re-read it multiple times just to admire how hope/lie can be different concepts, and should apply differently, and thus lead to different implications to the statement. But the more I read, the more the nuances become blurry to me. And that's really good writing!