who I am ?

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26th July — Tweety

I’m Tweety, a 20-year-old young woman, standing 5’3” tall and weighing 51 kg. My wavy black hair reaches my waist, and it often feels like it carries its own story—sometimes wild, sometimes calm, just like me. My almond-shaped eyes see the world with curiosity and doubt all at once; my small nose and soft, neutral-toned skin frame a face that’s still learning how to smile from the heart. I like to believe beauty is not only about how I look, but about how I endure, how I hope, and how I continue walking forward despite everything.

I belong to a middle-class family and I’m the second child in a family of six. My father, whom I love dearly, is complicated—he is protective, aggressive when angry, yet funny and tender in rare moments. He trusts outsiders more than his own family sometimes, and though it hurts, I choose silence. I convince myself not to protest because I don’t want to hurt him further. My mother, on the other hand, is the anchor of our home. She is gentle, humble, and endlessly patient. She never compares her children with others, never forces us into society’s expectations. Instead, she teaches us to follow our hearts, to stay kind, and to live decently. To me, she is more than a parent—she is a role model.

Still, life at home isn’t easy. I’m free to go places, to explore, but when it comes to how I dress, I’m often judged. My choices are questioned—by relatives, by society, sometimes even by my father. Words like “this isn’t decent” follow me around. And yet, I hold on to hope. I hope for a day when my heart will be free enough to live without fear of criticism, when my happiness will not be tied to rules made by others. I believe that day will come.

I tend to overthink. My mind never rests—it builds scenarios, good and bad, real and unreal. Sometimes I confuse care with love, or jealousy with attention. I feel emotions deeply, not just my own but also of those around me. I can carry others’ pain as if it were mine, but when it comes to my own pain, I remain silent and lost. Maybe that’s why I lean so strongly on God. He is the one presence that never abandons me. Each sunrise feels like His reminder that life can be renewed, that even after storms, light returns.

I’m still learning who I am and what I want. I don’t always have answers, but I know one thing for certain—I don’t let negativity push me into wrong paths. I know what is right and wrong, and I try to stand firm. Sometimes my silence, especially with my father, feels like weakness, but in truth, it’s compassion. I see his tiredness, his burdens, his unspoken struggles. I tell myself that even if his words hurt, maybe he just needs someone to listen, someone to understand.

So here I am, sharing my world, my voice, my heart. Not perfect, not polished, but real. If you’ve ever felt like me—confused, hopeful, broken, yet still holding on—then you’ll know what these words mean.

And with that, the story of Tweety pauses here. But it’s only the beginning. I want to hear from you. Can you relate? Can you see a little bit of yourself in me?

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Your beloved author,

Tweety ~~~ 🌸

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