I am not this girl. How can I still be this girl? I am smart. And kind. And attractive. And funny and fun. And loyal. And I always try to make the people that I love feel loved and supported and secure in my love. Why isn't this enough? More than enough?
I am a lawyer. And a mom. And a friend. And a daughter. And a sister. I have an imagination. A sense of humour. I am passionate. I am soulful. Why isn't this enough? More than enough?
I have a roof over my head. And a job. And a car. And clothes. And central air. I have my (physical) health. Why isn't this enough? More than enough?
Why do I need the attention and affirmation and acceptance of a man? Why do I make such bad decisions that end in such pain and such angst and self doubt? Why do open my heart and give like this? When the ending is always the same, like a fucking Danielle Steele novel without the happy ending--me coming unglued.
And the un-gluing is always somewhere inappropriate. Never in the privacy of my bedroom or even a dark bar. And this time? I am crying in the middle of my fucking salon. That I have been frequenting for 20 years. On a Saturday afternoon. In broad daylight. In public. Big fat, stupid tears falling down my stupid cape and onto the wooden table. While my hair is covered in foils and I strongly resemble a troll that somebody has rubbed back and forth in his hands.
Why?
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