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No More Apologies

I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not being your idea of good-enough. For not being your type of person. For laughing a little too loud, and sounding a little too sound in my decisions. I'm sorry for that time I offended you with my intonation, facial expressions, and wording. I'm sorry for when I speak too much--for that time I came off as bossy. I'm sorry for saying something wrong. I'm sorry for being a woman--but really, for being a bitch. For being a threat, when I am equally intimidated, but you'd never know it because I put up a defensive front.

There's a push to be perfect, but not too confident. Confident, but not too cocky. A leader, but not too bossy. Smart, but never smarter than you, and you never smarter than me. Large and in charge, but somehow small.

Somehow, we are supposed to be all of these things, while still finding a way to love ourselves and others. I have much to learn, but if there is anything this world is teaching me, it's that we cannot be everything to everyone. We cannot be liked by everyone, and by fighting this truth, we destroy ourselves in the process.

With that, I have come to the conclusion that yes. I am sorry for offending others. However, I am becoming more sorry for the way I have come to belittle myself.

I am energetic, talkative, loud, and sometimes...a little bossy. I know that I can appear as a know-it-all, and that I hate admitting when I am wrong. I'm stubborn as hell. I do things that I am not proud of at times, and sometimes I struggle to relinquish control. Sometimes, I get defensive. Sometimes I swear too much, and at times, I am selfish... kind of awful really.

But the thing is, I am also beautiful. I may be imperfect, but for the most part, I am kind. My laugh, while perhaps loud to you, is infectious. I smile at silly squirrels, hearing birds in the dead of winter, the sight of stars, and sometimes, beautiful sunsets make me cry without any rhyme or reason. To you, I may be too sensitive, but in my world, it is the act of choosing joy. To you, I may be foolish. To you, I may be annoying, impulsive, and perhaps too much to handle. I try to change for you, only to learn that it will never be your idea of enough.

In the end, I may never be your idea of perfect, but I am done apologizing for being myself.





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