You’re allowed to look at other girls and wish you had their lips, their wide hips, and tiny waists, their perky asses, and the way those perky asses sit in their jeans. You’re allowed to glance their way for three seconds longer than any normal person should and wish you looked a little more like they did.
You’re allowed to hear other people speak with long words you don’t know the meanings of, sophisticated sentences that flow with a type of eloquence you’ve only read in books, like some literary classic you grew to hate in college, you’re allowed to listen and think, they’re so much smarter than I am.
You’re allowed to scroll through your news feed and see every success story, every promotion and new job, every new degree and new scholarly merit, every person accomplishing their goals, accomplishing something, you’re allowed to scroll down and think, what am I doing here? Where am I going?
You’re allowed to peak at your ex’s instagram and see photos of his recent engagement party with all of the friends and family he introduced you to, the one you thought maybe one day you’d be a part of. You’re allowed to look at photos of his life now, with his new fiancé, and new dog, and new house, and new furniture and think, why wasn’t it me? And you’re allowed to feel a tinge of sadness when you do.
You’re allowed to lay alone in your bed at night wishing you had someone laying next to you, someone you could share your dreams with, not just the ones you have at night, but the dreams you live for every day. You’re allowed to wonder, will anyone ever love me the way I want to be loved?
You’re allowed to give your heart to people who don’t deserve it, to try to love people you know you shouldn’t just because you want to know if love is something you’re capable of doing. You’re allowed to think you’re giving love, when all you’re doing is giving the best part of yourself to someone who clearly isn’t worth it.
You’re allowed to finally find love again and still have this overwhelming feeling like you’re not good enough. You’re allowed to worry if he’ll hurt you like the one before him did. You’re allowed to be afraid that heartbreak will become a feeling that’s familiar. You’re allowed to be scared, fearful that every ounce of yourself you’ve poured into this companionship will just slowly seep through a leak that’s at the bottom, a leak you never knew was there, but still leaks regardless.
You’re allowed to be terrified of disappointment, of both being one and experiencing many. You’re allowed to feel like all of the good things going in your life are sure to end just because that’s how its happened before.
You’re allowed to have insecurities that make you feel small, alone, or just fucking sad but please know that you deserve every good thing that’s ever happened to you, and please don’t let these insecurities make you feel like you don’t. Please don’t let these insecurities make you feel like the people you compare yourself to are better, prettier, smarter, because you can always look at someone else and find one thing they have that you don’t, but that isn’t going to change who you are. Wishing to have what someone else has won’t help you love yourself, even if you manage to attain it.
You’re allowed to have insecurities, but don’t let them change who you are.