Dear Myself
Dear Myself puppies stories
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silverwingsgirl
silverwingsgirl Wings made for falling, together
Autoplay OFF   •   2 years ago
Dear myself, I’ve heard a lot about you. Dear myself, I’ve done a lot without you.

Dear Myself

Dear myself, I’ve heard a lot about you.

Dear myself, I’ve done a lot without you.

Dear myself, with all the lies and politics, I understand what you thought was true.

With all the jokes and lack-of humor, spread by those of an evil tongue, I get the self-worth being cut away from you.

I get that.

Beauty should be skinny.

Beauty should be broad.

Beauty ain’t that of reality, yet you tried, oh you tried.

Lies and doubts, spread your mind like a wild-fire, destroying all the growth and inner ambitions.

Beauty should be with curves, large and round.

The beauty should be perfect, with not an imperfection to be found.

They string you on, hold you on, the voices becoming louder, louder,

Until, those horrible, deep lies, become whispered by your own tongue.

You’ve tried so excessively, to be one of perfection, to be one of reflection.

To look in the glass of a mirror, and mimic the perfection as the cover-goddess.

To be seen as worthy, to be seen as something special.

Ignoring your battered up body, turning away from the essentials, the need

The hunger

The sleep.

Always looking, always changing, still not happy.

Still not perfection.

And, with all the turning of all the bads, becoming unbearable.

It stops, if only for a slight moment.

Help comes, in the form of a sharp needle, and a uneasy warranty.

Help put you under a sharp knife, made for cutting, fixing.

Are you fixed yet?

Are you perfect yet?

The once proclaimed perfection, stares back, in the mirror.

The self proclaimed imperfection, has vanished from the mirror.

Yet, that has no motion.

Yet, the eyes have no emotion.

The smile is fake, plastered there by the hands of a specialist, a person known to bake perfection.

Yet, the perfection standing there,

That isn’t you.

It never was.

But you had tried!

You were there! You have it all!

The beauty

The acceptance

The perfection you’ve always craved, always wanted.

But, that’s only the beauty you think you’ve obtained.

What have you done?

Where did you go?

This isn’t you

Are

You

Happy

Now?

Are you?

Going without love, without food, pushing yourself too much

Fixing, always fixing.

Aren’t you tired?

Aren’t you tired, of all the late nights, early mornings.

Filled with hunger, with deny.

Aching bones, barley withstanding the heavy loud you strain them with.

Are you done?

Are you not lonely?

Everyone, everyone who stood by you, left, left with a heart-ache goodbye, yet you were too busy, too selfish, to listen

To selfish to listen to the warnings

To selfish to listen to the pleas

To selfish, to understand, to remember,

That in the eyes on the beholder, beauty comes within.

That beauty, isn’t pain.

It ain’t pain.

For, Dear self,

Dear me,

You are beautiful, without it all.

You are perfection, without the fall.

Inside you, is something unique, something so special, it could never, ever, be played on a cover for all to judge.

You are wonderful, you are magical. You, are worthy.

So, dear myself, do me, a big, life-saving action. Do something for me, and all those who care so much about you.

Stop worrying.

Stop fussing

Stop

Being

Something

You were not meant to be

Because, dear self, you were made, to do so much more.

You were made, to be something spectacular.

To be perfection, at its’ purest form.

To be me, and nothing less, nothing more.

For you, dear self

Are worth it, and those lies, influences?

They don’t know you, the way I do.

Love, bring that back.

Hope, and step back

Step back, and take a big, deep breath.

And for god’s sake, eat something delicious!

Do something you haven’t done for yourself in a while,

Smile, without the surgery, without the puckery,

Wear what makes you stand out, not blend in,

Go bold

Go ambitious.

Go, as yourself.

For a cover-girl, is just lies, stripped together, on a thin piece of paper.

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