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Letter to Myself

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dear me,

I'm sorry for not feeling beautiful

for not being proud of the reflection I see in the mirror

It's as if I'm doing you a disservice

for not having the confidence to match someone of your caliber

I used to be happy with everything I was

till they started to pick me apart,

till they told me I wasn't enough,

and I wouldn't have believed them

if only

someone spoke up and said they were wrong

the silence was deafening

so I must've been the delusional one

for seeing perfection where they saw flaw

no matter how often you tell me I am in possession of the only significant opinion

I cannot believe it

my mind has been poisoned

my self satisfaction is now dependent on their approval

nothing kills me more

I wish I could love everything about you

but I'm unable to

because if I had that much adoration within myself I wouldn't crave it from others

apologetically,
me




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