Story of a girl.

Why do we push the people who care most about us to their limits?

I guess this needs context, as everything does. And third person, because that reduces responsibility and accountability.

Once upon a time, there lived a girl. Girl has self-esteem issues. She needs people to tell her what she is. She claims to be an individual, but she is constantly afraid of driving people away. She does not want to be alone and shunned and unwanted.

And then there are diamonds-in-the-rough that walk by, and tell her she’s great. Only, she does not believe them. So she needs to know if it is true. She sees how long they will stick around and maintain the story that she is great. The one with common-sense walks away. The other stays, but she throws pebbles their way creating ripples and ripples until even that…diamond/person gets chaffed. Because now, she needs to know if they think she is great despite her acting out and being unreasonable and annoying and inconsiderate and aloof. She needs to know how much she is worth, despite all of that graininess and flak that surrounds her. Only, that isn’t so great, is it? She is acting out of fear, and that closes and constricts everything she has to offer.

If the girl walks down this path, all of that glitter and promise will remain hidden under layers and layers and layers of guilt and delayed gratification and disintegrity (probably not a word). It is the new year. She needs a new storyboard.

 

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