Free

I spent eight years in that hellhole of a school.
Every day they told me I was wrong to be myself, wrong to be different, wrong to think differently. The nuns tried to beat into me the idea that my only worth as a female was to be the accessory of some man; that i was only as good as any alliance i could make. They told me it was sinful to even think i could survive on my own. Independence was wrong, they said.
I was weird for not panting after boys and manipulating them into my net.
I was odd for wanting to do things my way.
I was BLASPHEMOUS for asking questions nobody dared ask.
For that, I was punished. And little by little i started believing them.
When I graduated, I couldn't burn my bridges fast enough. But the nuns had done their job too well. I was angry, yes. But I didn't know who i was anymore. I was still on that same fucking island where everyone knew me and watched me and breathed down my neck. College really wasn't much different from what went before.
I went head to head with somebody who thought he could box me in. And when push came to shove, i let him. Because i wanted to graduate on time, because I wanted to move out of that little island.

And when i did finally move out, suddenly i was lost. I am in the school of my dreams but I am afraid. Because what seemed right to me WAS right and I have no people yelling at me that it was wrong. And I have people pushing me to squeeze out my ideas and give voice to my thoughts. Suddenly i can do what i want to do and not be chastised for it. I have a mama i can be myself with and a best friend who is there when i need him most. But i have never been so afraid. What if there are no ideas left in me? What if the nuns taught me so well, I've forgotten how to think for myself? What if the creativity is gone?
Because of the horrors of Catholic school, I swore to never go back. And I won't. But part of me wants to come back when i'm rich and happy, and spit in their faces. Because I got out.

I'm slowly learning myself back again. It's a little late, at 23, i suppose. But at least I'm free.


...

I thought about writing this for so long. It's time i finally let it out.