Tolerating always turns to resentment. At first, you call it patience, then love. But what it really is, is self-abandonment. Every time you swallow a boundary, excuse a pattern, or silence your discomfort, something inside you keeps score. And eventually, the bill comes due.
Unfortunately, I don't do nonchalant men. Be dominant. Be clingy. Be touchy. Watch my location. Plan dates. Show up. Bring freaking flowers. BE OBSESSED.
I’m in love with this sentence:
“The degree to which a person can grow is directly proportional to the amount of truth he can accept about himself without running away.”
My ancestors would not lose their minds at the sight of me.
I am not a surprise.
I am the answer to their prayers,
the dream they dreamt every sunrise,
the seed they planted with unshaken faith.
I am exactly who they saw when they closed their eyes and imagined freedom.