So What’s Your Story? 

If my life were a book, it’d have a little of something for everyone. 

My life has made me want to run away, but there’s no place to go, so I’ve been running all my life. 

I’ve been the church girl, naive, immature, young and senseless but with a good heart. I’ve literally gave all that I had. I know what is means to be at the top with everything you want and need at your beck and call, and I’ve also felt the pangs of hunger, the fear of uncertainty, the inferiority of not having anything at all. 

I’ve battled with self image issues. I hated my nose, hated my hair, hated my voice, hated my skin. I’ve also been worshipped, stalked and offered modelling deals. I’ve been made to feel like Shrek and made to feel like Cinderella. I’ve been a straight A student, but there are times I’ve struggled with staying up there. I’ve been raised in a loving stable family, then a family where everything was a mess, then a family that wasn’t a family at all. 

I’ve been the whore, I’ve been the other girl, I’ve been cheap and easy. I know what it feels like to fall asleep in a lover’s arms. I know the heart wrenching feeling of losing what once was, the heart breaking realization of being played, used and dumped. The feeling of wanting nothing but revenge, the series of bad bad decisions that follow and the way you end up only hurting yourself. I also know the redemption and grace that comes with being saved. 

I know how it feels to come out victorious, to be tagged a winner, to be celebrated, cheered on, revered. I’ve been on that fast lane. I’ve also been at the bottom, where I’ve desperately tried to claw my way back up but nothing just seemed to work. I know the feeling of dropping dejected, hands in surrender, giving up, I’ve wore the tag of loser. 

I’ve found love and lost love. I’ve known friendship and betrayal. I’ve been the hunter and I’ve been the victim. I’ve felt bliss and utmost doom, I’ve stood strong and crumbled from being weak. I’ve been good, bad, better, ugly. I’ve cried, laughed, died, healed, I can’t even put all of it down because I will get lost in the details of me. So don’t tell me I won’t understand, I’ve been tongue tied and silent too, when the words just wouldn’t form into a meaningful sentence or come out. We’ve all been there before, some once and some more often than others. So Honey, what’s your story? What’s the thing you’re not telling anybody? What’s the thing nobody seems to be seeing, nobody seems to be hearing? 

If nobody cares to listen, I will. I promise. 

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