There was a time when all I knew in life was you. You were my world for a long time. I loved you with unparalleled intensity. As the months wore on, I realized... life with you was more often than not, a struggle.
-A fight to keep a shred of dignity intact and convince myself I was beautiful, even when you made me feel like I wasn't.
-A fight to be like the other girls you were drawn to. A woman who was so unlike myself. A woman who frightened me and made me feel like gutter-slut trash.
-A fight to keep a modicum of normalcy in my day to day life when I felt it spinning out of control.
-A fight to keep paranoia at bay when you left me alone in bed at night to seek out other avenues of amusement. Me, staring at the ceiling and chastising myself for being too prudish. For not being sexy enough.
-A fight not to punch you in the face as you lay next to me sleeping, because I found out what you did.
Guess what? I'm done fighting. I'm done feeling sorry for myself and feeling like I can't do better than you.
Because I have.
He makes me feel beautiful and appreciated. I can trust him implicitly. I want to share every part of myself with him. He is the man I plan to stumble through life with. When you asked me, "What's he have that I don't?"
Me. That's what.
I'm giving up the ghost and rising once again.
So, I guess this is a round about way of telling you to go fuck yourself.
And that feels pretty good.