𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐀 | 𝐋. 𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐍

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄

STRENGTH.

A curious thing, strength is. You can either use it for good, to shield the helpless, to build communities, to fight for a greater cause. Or you can use it for the worse and oppress the downtrodden, to destroy and defeat your adversaries. Its versatility is incredibly fascinating—these were the things I thought, bedridden as a teenager.

Just strong enough to weakly lift my chin, I gazed yearningly for days—ages—at the world beyond the door, seeking solace in its azure skies and swirling clouds. I believed past the door was freedom and bliss, expecting me with welcoming arms, so when I finally mustered the energy to step out on the street, I was elated. To feel the wind on my skin, the sun's warmth, it was truly a blessing. The cobblestone beneath my feet poked at my soles, but what was it but a trivial bother? It wasn't everything I wanted, it was more than that. So absorbed in my delight, I had heedlessly overlooked the third figure lurking beside the threshold, something much darker.

Reality.

It sharply stung me like the thorn of a rose, and I was introduced to a facet of the world that'd remained unbeknownst to my imagination. The depravity and the strife came at me like a sword, and I found myself accosted with jeers and degrading comments for solely stepping on the wrong stone. I was openly ogled at—both in disgust and demeaning fascination—, excluded, mocked, pinched, pawed at, everything but respected. And it escalated to more. By my sixteenth birthday, I'd encountered more than my fair share of hooded figures with knives, was almost raped more times than I could count on both hands, and called every name under the sun. Yet I foolishly clung onto the little optimism I had, hoping better days would come.

By the time the Wall crumbled, that optimism eventually withered into apathy, and any faith I had in humanity had diminished entirely.

This world is merciless and unforgiving, and oftentimes I wondered whether it was worth it to continue—whether it'd one day renounce its treacherous disposition, whether enduring the perverse glares and abuses would be rewarded with might. And it was, in a way: I became stronger than I could ever imagine. The ill-mannered gestures stopped, and my colleagues ceased to pester me. I developed into a woman I hardly recognized. A woman who could easily challenge a man twice her size, A woman who could endure days in the wilderness, dependent on her own conviction and skill. A woman worthy of recognition from the best of the best. I no longer played the role of prey, but of the huntress.

And there began my obsession with strength.

In pursuance of the strength I so desired, I denounced anything related to weakness. Long gone were the pity parties, and the demeaning internal dialogue. I only looked onward, onward to strength, to might, and to prestige. It was invigorating, exhilarating, and everything in between. A high to be chased, a reward to be earned. Time and time again, I proved my competence, surpassing the most demanding of expectations and challenging my colleagues' perception of me, even with the world working against me.

But like everything in life, it all came at a cost.

As my strength grew, so did my fragility, and I inadvertently became the best and the worst, a breathing oxymoron. With the passing of the seasons, the apathy within me intensified into a profound resentment, taking hold of me like an invasive vine, its tendrils coiled menacingly around my limbs. I dulled into a callous and volatile version of myself. A woman who distrusted even her most dependable comrades, a woman critical of the world around her...

A woman who not only denounced weakness, but despised it.

There have been times where my competence has been challenged. When others were keen on reducing me or proving me wrong, but it'd always end the same: I'd be the one to prevail. I was so certain of myself that I would not spare them a glance, asserting my rightful position as the woman I was, a force not to be reckoned with.

My strength, something I so treasure, is something I will defend to the end of my days.

Because in the end, it's the only thing I have.