How I Stopped Trying to Be “Different” and Realized Being Like Other Girls Is Actually Amazing.

How I Went from Thinking “I’m Not Like Other Girls” Made Me Cool to Realizing I Was Just Unbearable — And Why Embracing My Inner Basic Queen Was the Best Decision Ever.

I used to be a pick-me girl — fully convinced that being “not like other girls” made me special. I’d roll my eyes at rom-coms, pretend I didn’t care about makeup, and act like enjoying stereotypically “girly” things was beneath me. Because obviously, being different automatically made me better, right? Yeah… no.

Then, one day, it hit me like a truck: I am like other girls. Gasp! The horror. What a tragedy! I realized that being a woman is enjoyable. Linking things other women enjoy doesn’t make me some mindless clone. Women are complex human beings with unique personalities and shared experiences. Who would’ve thought? Not past me, who believed my deep love for sneakers over heels was a revolutionary feminist statement.

Once I got over my internalized misogyny phase, I started asking myself what I liked — not what would make me seem cool or different. And guess what? I want a lot of the same things other girls like. I started journaling, which, by the way, is just trauma-dumping onto paper. Trust me, it works! It’s like a free therapy session. You can talk about anything, anything about anyone, without interruptions or judgment — just vibes and questionable handwriting.

But some emotions are too big for words, and that’s when I paint. I don’t know how to explain it, but there’s something incredibly satisfying about slapping all my feelings onto a canvas in random colors and chaotic brush strokes. Is it museum-worthy? If it’s a museum for the chaotic life of being a woman. Yeah, it is. But it’s just one of the media to express yourself as a woman. Enjoy it.

I used to think it was just something girls did to impress people. “I’m not like those girls who wear makeup every day,” I’d say, smugly rocking my bare face like it was a personality trait. But now? Now, I get it. Makeup is fun. Makeup is art. It’s a painting but on my face. And the best part? I do it for me. Even if I’m sitting at home, bothering no one, feeling fabulous for no reason. Because sometimes, bold eyeliner and perfect brows are the only things holding me together.

It’s the same with fashion. I dressed for approval — whether it was guys, social media, or imaginary critics living in my head. Now? I wear what makes me happy. Some days, that’s a cute, coordinated outfit that makes me feel like a Pinterest board come to life. Other days, it’s an oversized hoodie that makes me look like I’ve given up on life. And both? Equally valid. Because dressing well isn’t about impressing people — it’s about looking in the mirror and thinking, I’d be friends with her.

Somewhere along the way, I realized something wild: happiness isn’t about being different from others — it’s about being yourself. That means embracing the things that make me happy — writing, painting, dressing up, playing with makeup, and just letting myself exist without worrying about being perceived.

The best part was when I stopped seeing other women as competition. No more “ugh, I don’t get along with girls” nonsense. It is so amazing being part of this community. We hype each other up, bond over shared experiences, and have fun just being ourselves. We’re not in some Hunger Games competition for male approval — we’re all living out here.