You are on page 1of 12

alex kollar

hi. it’s me.

i don’t think we’ve never spoken before.
i usually try to avoid you, but
i don’t hate you.
i don’t think i am better than you.
i don’t reject you.
i am a part of you.
i won’t waste your time.
i know you are busy
i just wanted to tell you something.
i’m not trying to justify who i am or what i do.
i don’t want to be hostile.
i just wanted to make a few things clear, because
i can’t help but notice that my voice has become

lost.
i won’t yell at you about the way you see beauty
because i know you have heard it all. i just want
to take this time to thank you for when you called
me ugly. for some reason you were out for blood,
my blood. i won’t lie, i cried a lot because i wasn’t
skinny enough, my hair wasn’t blonde enough,
and my face wasn’t pretty enough. looking back
i still don’t quite understand why you were so
brutal to a mere child, you act as if nothing
happened. though you refuse to acknowledge
your sins, that’s fine, because i forgive you. if you
didn’t break me down then, i would not be built up
now. i am beautiful and you won’t take that fact
away from me. but still, why is it always children?
for a long time, i have felt pressured to
desire a relationship. girls are supposed to
talk about boys, throw themselves at boys,
be completely enchanted by boys. that’s
what you always told me. i am not angry
at you for instilling such a closed minded
perspective within me, you were just doing
what you thought was right. but looking back
on those countless restless nights, tossing
and turning, my chest burning with such
strong feelings of love and desire, i laugh. love
is good. love is fulfilling and it is powerful, in
many different forms. but the kind of love you
keep telling me to have is unholy and wrong. you
may not understand, but just try to process these
next few words. i have broken free of your desire
for love, no longer do i seek it out. i am really and
truly content. i know you will misinterpret this as
an actual cry for a relationship or even a state of
denial to make myself seem stronger. no. i am happy.
think about all the freedom i will have
to give up. the idea of being cooped
up in a suburban home, baby in one
hand, freshly prepared dinner in the
other, fills me with, not giggles. Do
not put me on a pedestal of “female
if i have no desire to meet “the one” empowerment” or shame me, as you
why would you believe i think about are so eager to do. i am nothing special
having children? is it because i have for saying that i am not thinking
always said i want children or that about baring children in the next ten
i love children? maybe you should years. but i am not turning my back
taunt me with the idea of letting my to the idea. everything has its time.
parents down like you always do, you
might get me to change my mind. i do
like children, more than most i would
think, however my goals in life have
shifted. the idea of being a mother
no long fills me with such bubbling
joy that i giggle at the thought. now,
when i think about motherhood, i
think about all the freedom i will have
to give up. the idea of being cooped
up in a suburban home, baby in one
hand, freshly prepared dinner in the
other, fills me with, not giggles. i do
like children, more than most i would
think, however my goals in life have
shifted. the idea of being a mother
no long fills me with such bubbling
joy that i giggle at the thought. now,
when i think about motherhood, i
is sound ld me
ve. ’ve to
relati n be,
i n g c a i s w h at you t i create ed
anyth art. does th it’s t wha entifi
d i s , u l d , y o u look a e always id ou call
an sho av ty
iar? it come le? i h y wha eat,
famil e. yet, how t be possib rrounded b hile i only he
a t i m a n t h a m s u a r t , w w i t h t
y c a
man ge? how
n , b u t now i nd breathe e satisfied eate
ri t a b c r
and c as an artis eat, sleep, may never ith that. i that
f w
mysel rtists. they i know you g to be ok m e t h ing
a . n o so o
“real” nd breathe i am learni my all int or others, s
l e e p , a t , b u t n l y p ut r e a t e f
a r d
s do a r e. i o to c ow h
way i no one els u want me o matter h g for
r m e , o w y o b u t n e t h in
fo y. i kn pired . o som e
i enjo can be ins my art int ceed. i hop
they t w i s t t s u c s ,
y to ill no ther
you tr ne, you w ng joy to o
o
every art may bri priority is
my y first
but m ging joy to
brin f.
mysel
as
th i
ab at hav
an ilit i sh e g
to d p ies ou ott
de su rop . wh ld h en
of cor e, er? y? av old
fin ha ate kni wh why e ce er,
in d vin ? i t, c y m m rta yo
un spir them g see ook us ust in s u k
to de ing a tho th , c t i b i be kil eep
m ob rsta , dm se e b lea e cl ls
a e a s
ta y o tai nd but ira ski ene n, o ble an nd ayin
k
to e wn n t b l fi g
t he i le ls, ts r
an ex prid ab hem pr do an i
al d pl e ilit . ess n’ d
co l th don ore in. ies i ha ure t
th me e ’t m allo tha ve
at y t
’s tog rest wor ta w m i
wh eth , i ry len e
at er. t w ab ts
o
i or ill ut
te at
ll a
l ll
m east
ys
el
f.
i’m sure you have been
waiting to bring up body
image. while you were right
that i would touch on the
subject, i doubt you thought
i wouldn’t have much to say.
it is true you like to hold onto
expectations, no matter how
outlandish they are, i can
see that you are changing.

slowly but surely the
shackles of the past are
loosening, no matter
much you want to hold
on to them. the voices are
loud and there are many,
shouting for change. just
promise me one thing;
don’t let everything go,
otherwise i will have
nothing to strive towards.
i remember when i was a child, dancing around my room in some crazy
costume, singing and playing with my toys. i remember carefully picking out
what color of fake lipstick would look best with my princess dress. nowadays
i’ve traded my fake makeup in for the real stuff and my dresses for skinny
jeans and tank top. i know you are no stranger to the world of style. so you
understand better than anyone when i say that one’s style is a treasure. also,
style never stops evolving. it makes you wonder what the next fad will be.
what ever it is, i have developed my own sense of style that makes me feel
confident. you may call it materialistic, i call it the power/comfort complex.

confident. you may call it materialistic, i call it the power/comfort complex.
what ever it is, i have developed my own sense of style that makes me feel
style never stops evolving. it makes you wonder what the next fad will be.
understand better than anyone when i say that one’s style is a treasure. also,
jeans and tank top. i know you are no stranger to the world of style. so you
i’ve traded my fake makeup in for the real stuff and my dresses for skinny
what color of fake lipstick would look best with my princess dress. nowadays
costume, singing and playing with my toys. i remember carefully picking out
i remember when i was a child, dancing around my room in some crazy
as i said, i do not hate you, but there is
something you do that i cannot ignore.
you put us in boxes. you put me in a box.
laughing is a good thing, i love to laugh.
but do not fit me into a jack-in-the-box. i
am not your clown meant only for comic
relief. do not put me on a stage expecting
to preform everyday for your enjoyment.
i feel pain, suffering, anger, sorrow, and
guilt. do not choose to be fooled by my
smiling facade because you do not with
to deal with my true, human emotions.
i will not be a play toy placed on a self
until someone takes me down. i offer
comfort, advice, wisdom, and guidance,
do not fit me in a box. i will break out.
finally, please, do same.
not try to control like i said, i do not
my dreams. do reject you, only
not map out my your flaws. your
path. do not act flaws hold me
like you control back from taking
my destiny. i hold of my life. i
believe there is a will break free. i
set course for me, will travel. i will
but i also believe explore, get lost,
i make my own fall down, get up,
path. i will be try again, fail, try
my own type of once more, then
woman. my own fail again. but
type of artist. that’s fine, as long
my own type of as i am me. my
beautiful, my own God has planned
type of lover. i many adventures,
will follow my i can feel it, but
heart, my God, my i must let you go
gut. we are one, if i am to go. so i
but we are not the guess this is
until next time