I Miss Her

Courtesy of Karimjee family.

Looking in the mirror as a child, I saw myself as a princess. Sure, I wore a dazzling tiara jewelled with pink stones, but I saw beyond its plasticity. In my eyes, it was a crown of confidence, representing the dreams and the greatness I could create. I was a girl wearing her heart on her sleeve, eager to hear laughter and see smiles, spreading joy wherever I went, with a touch of sparkle, of course! I poured my heart and soul into everything – people, dreams, and myself. From the spark in my eyes, I saw the reflection of a princess capable of conquering anything. However, as I grew into a woman, I no longer had a kingdom of people to love – only a realm of expectations to fulfill. The more I chased approval, the more the kingdom’s storms clouded the radiating light I once had. Somewhere along the way, that princess lost her tiara, and her spark began to fade. How I miss the girl who embraced everyone–including herself–with unconditional love!

Reflecting on my once-happy childhood, I wonder how my inner child disappeared. Perhaps it started with my first heartbreak—the loss of a friend. I met this friend, Carine, while sitting against the wall during recess in primary school. Soon enough, we built a 10-year bond that felt unbreakable. We had been together for princess dress-ups and teenage adventures. We even got matching tattoos after a trip to Punta Cana, symbolizing our “forever friendship”. But we lost it all over a man. She often cancelled our plans for her boyfriends, even when I needed her the most. I had enough, and I finally left. Still, I questioned my worth as a friend, wondering if I should have accepted being her second choice. The loss of that friendship was the first crack in my tiara, as societal pressure for relationships made her forget the value of the bond we once cherished. Ever since, I’ve kept my guard up with friends. I miss the pure, platonic love I used to give without hesitation. 

Then came my own experience with a boyfriend. Swearing not to follow in my best friend’s footsteps, I vowed to prioritize my friends. But, I too fell into society’s trap: a relationship. I loved the idea of being loved and imagined a rom-com type of romance, the kind I’d seen in To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before, Mean Girls or Legally Blonde. I believed a boy would move heaven and earth for me, bringing flowers on the first date, introducing me to his loved ones, and loving me unconditionally. That’s what he did at first. 

Reality hit hard – I was love-bombed. That rom-com fantasy got crushed as he slowly but surely showed his true colours. He began verbally abusing my self-worth with comments like “You’re lucky I love you; I don’t know who else could tolerate you” or “You’re pretty, but every other girl is pretty pretty.” Insult after insult, he took my spark away as I saw a woman unworthy of love in the mirror. 

I disrespected myself by staying, clinging to the hope that the original rom-com love would return. Before you know it, he caused a drift between me and my loved ones, leaving me with no one to remind me of my worth. After ten long months, the love I gave him was gone–but so was the love I once gave myself. I wish I looked in the mirror and seen how gorgeous I was before his words took that away. I miss the version of me who was happy and stayed by her friends.

These last few years, I resonated with Alexander 23’s song IDK You Yet– feeling like I was missing someone I’d never met. Turns out the love I was missing was from the version of myself I had yet to become. I’m so tired of society teaching me that being in my own company wasn’t enough; I’m making it enough. I can no longer bear to see a stranger in the mirror anymore–a woman who has lost her tiara and love for herself, with no more spark. From that moment on, I embarked on a quest to rediscover my happy inner child. I’m learning that I don’t need that plastic tiara to see that I deserve to treat myself like the princess I am. I no longer need to miss her–I am becoming her again. 

End note: I wrote this piece for my English Creative Writing class in the first semester of my third year of Journalism at Toronto Metropolitan University. Hope you enjoy the read! 🙂