I haven’t felt pretty in ever so long. Months and months. She knew how to make me feel pretty and loved, and voiced so many words of adoration almost every day that now I wonder if those too are a lie. I wonder if she was wrong and so am I and I’m a monster that reflects the ache inside of me and makes me keep people at a distance.
People fucking hurt. And I just don’t feel the need for intimacy outside of my own with myself. And I know I don’t trust me because for two years she lied to me and yet I believed that she trusted me enough to be honest with herself and she never was.
For two years she saw me as a whore and showed it in her distrust and how many times she threw me away. And every time she would love bomb me until I trusted her again with EVERYTHING I am and it was all a lie so how the hell can I trust me enough to let anyone that close again?
I’m not saying those things to make you pity me. I’m not saying them to say I’m a victim either. I own my shit. I’m saying those things because I know that inside me I have so very much to heal and improve before I’m well enough to have a relationship again.
And to be honest, no one has ever loved me like she did, or make me feel the way she did and so why leave a trail of people behind that I hurt over and over again when no one will ever be her?
So. Back to the first paragraph. I wanted to feel pretty. I bought myself some jewelry from Magpie’s Trick, and put on some makeup, and took some photos in the morning light. Best of which is this one:
And damn if it didn’t feel good to be a little pretty for a few minutes. Even wore femme dangly earrings, which I haven’t worn in over a year, and it felt awkward but I mostly felt pretty.
It felt good to stand bare-footed under my favorite tree (in the yard) and dig my toes into the cool damp soil and catch the morning light.
Eventually I’ll feel good more days than I feel bad, and things will balance again. I’m ever optimistic, and I’m too stubborn to give up.
A Burd in Flight 