I always thought I was special.
Or at least that is how my parents made me feel.
I used to watch the older girls from a distance.
I watched them go through through their monthly agony: their period.
I was 15 at the time.
I fell sick for a couple of weeks.
I was feverish and my entire body was aching.
I went to the bathroom and felt something strange dripping out of me.
I was bleeding, but was I wounded?
Yeah! You guessed right: it was the monthly battle that all women have to fight. But, how can I fight? I asked myself.
Can I even fight?
I screamed and I cried.
I cried because I knew it was all over.
I knew that the happy days were gone.
I knew that the tomboy I used to be would cease to exist.
I knew that I wouldn’t be allowed to hang out with my male peers anymore.
It was over.
It was over without a fight!
Was it over without a fight?
Was this my destiny?
How could I have fought in the first place?
I guess I am just another tormented woman enduring her monthly battle.
