Some women are no longer afraid. For whom it is too late to be afraid. Oh, how well said! Some women are no longer afraid. For whom it is too late to be afraid. To be afraid of not being liked. To not measure up. To not know. To not have time. To not know how to bake a Napoleon cake. To cook pilaf. To draw eyeliner correctly.
They are not afraid to ask again. To look ridiculous. They have something to wear for the summer. For the fall too. And it is not a problem. There are fewer and fewer gaps in their lives. It is no longer scary to go in a straight line. They can go to the river. They know that beauty is inside. They are not afraid to drown. Because they have been living in the depths for a long time. They are not ashamed to cry. From grief and joy. They can laugh at this too.
It’s too late for them to be afraid of gray hair. Wrinkles. They are not the first. And now it’s all from a smile. It’s too late for them to be afraid of what others will think. Colleagues. Mother-in-law. People.
They have long since stopped caring whether it is washed. Cleaned. With or without gluten. They eat what they want. They are no longer afraid to do it at night. And they are not ashamed at all. They know that smoking and drinking are not harmful. What is harmful is not breathing. Not wanting.
They don’t care. He can come at 18:30 or 21:00. If he loves. And he’s in a hurry. The main thing is that he’s here. They’re no longer afraid to be alone. They know how to not see someone who doesn’t notice. To walk away from someone who pushes away.
They have something to say. Something to be silent about.
Something to pray about. They have everything from the heart. They are someone’s outlet. They are not afraid to seem stupid. Fat. Thin. They stopped seeming long ago. And began to be.
Do what you love. Love someone who loves. Sleep with someone you can’t fall asleep with. Even if you want to.
Speak directly. Don’t wind yourself up. Curl. Yourself. Don’t straighten your locks. But keep your back straight. Turn a blind eye to fools. Listen to the silence.
Bitter chocolate is sweet for them. They know how to value time. Morning. Day. Night. They don’t force their daughter. They don’t instruct their son. They are busy with their business. Their own. They know how to be with themselves. With themselves.
They don’t blame their father anymore. They love their mother. They are not afraid to die. Because they live.
There are women for whom it is too late to be afraid.
For me, it is too early. Or scary.
