You

You are not your looks; not your eyes, your nose , your lips. You are not the warpaint you may or may not choose to slather on each morning. You are not your breasts, buttocks, your limbs nor your hair. You are most definitely not your vagina. You are not your degree, your academic qualifications, your job nor your money. You are not your friends, your partner not even your family.

You are not that traumatising event which nearly killed you, physically or emotionally. You are however, the recovery from it.

I watch girls my age wittle themselves down, avoiding lunch, counting calories. I watch them buy clothes, worrying that the styles may not be boy-friendly. I watch them change their attitudes, their lifestyles, to suit their other half. I watch their self esteem fluctuate according to the number of sexual innuendoes received that day. I watch them cry because of something hurtful a loved one said, even if that something makes no sense and is little more than slander. I watch them base their choices on everyone else's opinion but their own. I watch them cling onto dead relationships, their optimism touchingly pathetic.

You are you. Learn to love yourself, first before expecting others to love you.


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