Pearlzwrites

  Will It All Finally Make Sense? “May I never be a hardworking girl with nothing to show for it.” Life is stressful, yes. But the life of a hardworking woman? It is brutal. Draining. Suffocating. The kind of exhaustion that enters your bones and sits in your soul. Sometimes it feels like even the air you breathe comes at a price. I once heard the story of a woman who became an orphan at just five years old. Five. At an age where a child is supposed to know warmth, safety, and love, life handed her pain instead. She grew up as a house help, moving from suffering to suffering. Even though she stayed with relatives, life was still cruel to her. She said there were nights she would lie down and ask God: “What did a five-year-old child do to deserve this kind of life?” And honestly… sometimes life becomes so unbearably heavy that you find yourself questioning God, even when you love Him. Not because you doubt His existence. Not because you hate Him. But because your heart cannot unders...

I’ve realized that many women I’ve met have experienced SA. The scariest part is that it often comes from people no one would ever suspect, which makes it even harder to speak up or be believed. This is one thing I truly wish didn’t exist, especially when it involves a minor. Back in SS1, I was about thirteen or fourteen...ish. Someone older started crossing boundaries with me in ways that didn’t feel right.  At first it was a harmless "I like you I want you to be my girlfriend" I was shocked and confused… and for a moment I tried to excuse it, telling myself maybe he just liked me. But deep down, I knew something wasn’t right. I politely turned him down, thinking he would get the message and leave me alone. I was so wrong. I would sit for hours listening to him talk about how he would make my life better, how he would take care of me… all the promises. But even at that age, I understood something important, if someone truly cares about you, they protect you, not pressure you...

  Florence didn’t notice when it started bothering her this much. At first, Vincent’s silence felt normal. Even comforting in a strange way. He wasn’t loud, he wasn’t all over her, he wasn’t one of those men who talked too much just to impress. When they were together, everything felt… easy. He would sit beside her, hold her hand absentmindedly, listen more than he spoke. It felt calm. Safe, even. But somehow, that same silence began to feel different when they were apart. It was in the long hours that stretched into the night. In the way her phone stayed still when she kept expecting it to light up. In how she would open his chat, stare at the last message, and wonder if she was the only one thinking about them. She didn’t want to be that girl. The one who complains. The one who always needs reassurance. So she swallowed it. “Maybe this is just how he is,” she told herself. But thoughts have a way of growing when you don’t say them out loud. One night, she lay on her bed, the room...