A good role model was simple: this chaste, heteronormative, God-fearing girl. That was it.
The world becomes a little lighter. You see the universe the way you see yourself. Would you rather be the magnifying glass looking down at the concrete or the telescope looking up to the ~stars~?
Love is such a complex thing.
I want to start off by stating outright that some of what’s written below may be a trigger for those who struggle with a self-injury addiction.
Plunging necklines + no bras = small boobies paradise.
You are the kind of woman who is not used to being served. The harsh realities of life and the street wisdom that comes with it, have made you a quick hustler.
This is not swallowing cyanide pills in the form of self doubt and sabotage.
I’ll admit it.
My entire life I thought that being selfish was synonymous with being a bad person. That if I ever did anything for myself then I wasn’t living up to my cultural or religious ideals.
I’ll admit, it took a lot of tears, many late nights of wondering what in the world was wrong with me, and a few doses of tough self-love, but I’ve finally reached the conclusion that none of those things should be, or should have been, a top priority.