The Myth of the Soft Girl, and Why I Chose the Thorn Instead

There was no thunderclap. No prophetic dream. Just a quiet moment - maybe in the mirror, maybe mid-conversation - when I understood: to be seen as "soft" was not a compliment. It implies women should be delicate, compliant, and unobtrusive. It was a leash. A corset laced with expectation.

The Soft Girl is a myth. Not one of goddesses or monsters, but of compliance cloaked in blush tones. She is the dream spun by a society that prefers its women silent, smooth-edged, and sweet enough to swallow whole. A wisp. A whisper.

But I? I chose the thorn.

The thorn is not loud - but it is clear. It does not apologize for its edge, nor does it wait to be picked. It protects as much as it declares: I am not here for your comfort. I am here for my own damn becoming. I've always been drawn to the thorn. It symbolizes Sharpness and resilience. It reminds us that true Power comes from embracing our inner strength and individuality, not from conforming to societal norms.

It's about being unapologetically myself, with all the beauty and brutality that comes with it.

The Allure and Illusion of Softness

Softness is seductive. It wears the perfume of gentleness, draped in lace and lowered eyes. And gods, I wanted to believe in her - this archetype that promised safety if only I made myself small.

But softness, when demanded, becomes a shroud.

The world does not merely admire softness - it requires it from certain bodies. Particularly from those born into feminine shapes. It's not a trait. It's a muzzle.

To choose sharpness, then, is not merely preference - it is rebellion.

A blade slipped into the hem of your skirt.

The Illusion Wears Many Veils:

• That compliance is virtue.

• That delicacy is divine.

• That restraint is righteousness.

But softness can be mistaken for silence. And silence, if you're not careful, becomes erasure.

The Unseen Cost of Performative Gentleness

The cult of the soft girl does not ask you to feel. It asks you to perform feeling - delicately, decorously, digestibly. You learn to edit your rage, iron your grief, make your wild joy manageable.

And with each bite of your tongue, you vanish just a little more.

I have lived that vanishing. Worn it like tulle. Smiled sweetly through it. Until one day I began clawing my way back into the shape of something untamed.

Emotional suppression is a quiet violence. It fractures the soul with velvet gloves.

But the thorn? The thorn says no in a language the world cannot mishear.

Embracing Sharpness Power: The Wisdom of the Thorn

In myth, the rose is often crowned queen of beauty. But what makes her dangerous - what makes her divine - are the thorns.

Sharpness is not cruelty. It is clarity.

To be sharp is to know where you end and the world begins. It is to hold your boundary like a blade. It is to speak plainly, fiercely, without the need to be palatable.

The thorn, with its sharp edge, has become a symbol of embracing personal power. In a society that often values gentleness over strength, choosing sharpness over sweetness can be a revolutionary act. It's about recognizing that vulnerability is not weakness, but a form of strength that allows us to be authentic and unapologetic.

Strength in Vulnerability

Embracing our sharpness means acknowledging that we are not one-dimensional beings. We are complex, with edges that can be both protective and powerful. Sharpness Power is not about aggression; it's about being unafraid to stand our ground and assert our presence.

• Holding your form when others would reshape you.

• Knowing vulnerability is not softness - it's courage in exposed skin.

• Choosing visibility over safety.

• Bring both flame and steel, as needed.

By choosing sharpness, we are not rejecting softness entirely but rather finding a balance that allows us to be both strong and gentle, as the situation demands. This balance is at the heart of Sharpness Power, enabling us to navigate life's challenges with confidence and resilience.

We are not here to be easy. We are here to be true.

From Petals to Iron: Becoming

If I am a flower, I am wolfsbane.

If I am soft, it is because I have survived my own hardness.

If I am kind, it is because I have chosen not to collapse under the weight of expectation.

My journey from softness to sharpness is not a rejection of femininity. It is a reclamation of its feral, fanged form.

True power does not perform.

It pulses.

It demands nothing - but accepts nothing less than truth.

I shed the lace not because it was ugly, but because it was not mine. I kept the silk I bled into. I crowned myself with thorns.

And I have never looked back.