“spotless”, she’d say, “it better be fuckin spotless!”.

so i became a master of hiding the ugly and undesirable.

there is just too much explaining in vulnerability,

so i aimed to be perfect.

her self-consciousness rubbed off onto my psyche

before my body hit puberty.

i was too dark, too chubby,

too not the “it” girl or the girl next door.

too me, too awkward, too shy, too ugly.

my generational self-consciousness perspired out of me.

i struggled day in and day out to piece myself back together again

and still have the energy to paint my facade,

straighten my back and hold my head

high enough to render my fake smile.

when i got honest with myself,

shit got too real.

i fell apart. i crumbled inside of myself.

Self-love is cute in theory and tumblr posts

but it is more than treating and pampering yourself.

it is realizing that you are a gift

and that you deserve yourself far more

than anyone else ever can.

it is editing the words of others out of your story

and being a griot of truth,

authentic and rightfully so,

and still being worth a second read.

it is unediting your photo

and still being worth a second look.

it is a never ending process, nothing finite.

it is not hiding the ugly,

or even believing that ugly rests inside of you,

only stars, that are still able to give off light

after millennia of tired

and eons of battered.

believing even the depths of you shine.

i thank God for triumphs.

i thank God for wholeness.

May i stay honest with my broken,

and leave it in peace.





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