One of my favourite extracts from Khaled Hosseini’s novel, The Kite Runner.
I wondered if that was how forgiveness budded, not with the fanfare of epiphany, but with pain gathering its things, packing up, and slipping away unannounced in the middle of the night.
Today I put on a real bra and one of my favourite outfits, all for a boy who only wanted me in bare skin. I am more than he treats me to be, for my soul is of unfathomable beauty. I am better than this.
Today is #BellLetsTalk day and so I sit here in Starbucks reading through my Twitter. For the first time ever, I find myself actually able to relate to some of this years’ posts. Consequently, I feel it is reasonable to take a moment and reflect on my growth as a person.
The last nine months of my life have sucked. Although in the grand scheme of things, nine months isn’t a lot, it felt like an eternity for me. Somehow, my feelings of self worth became associated with boys, and what degree of interest they showed in me. Even at the time, I knew it was completely ridiculous, but it felt easier to blame my insecurities on others. In me handling this, I did some pretty irrational things. I felt misunderstood, judged, and gossiped about. I’ve grown very anxious and dread getting out of bed some days because of it. Even as things are slowly getting better, my life still feels uneventful, and my presence seems unneeded.
I know deep down that I am defined by so much more than the size of my friend group, and whether I have a boyfriend or not. I mean honestly, I have yet to even meet a boy who inspires me to be the best version of myself. I deserve the absolute best; someone who isn’t afraid to dream, has ambition and shows me off. I have so much love to give and stories to tell, and often feel like those aspects of my personality come across as “obsessive” or “annoying”. The person meant for me wouldn’t ever feel that way.
I am going to change this world someday. I feel as though I’ve been wronged by many people, and look forward to the moment I prove them wrong. Ultimately, I wouldn’t change a thing about myself. I think that I am kind, thoughtful and beautiful, and am sick of believing people when they suggest otherwise.
I am seeing him again, the one who broke me only eight months ago. I swore I wouldn’t give him my heart anymore, but how can that be true when I never fully took it back. It is hard to understand how the world could let me love him as deeply as I do, without being loved in return.