I have been jumping from ledge to ledge for the past five years. Putting up with bad behaviour, letting people treat me however they wanted, as long is it meant I could survive. I wanted to desperately to leave where I came from, not because of my family, who has persevered and loved each other no matter what the world throws at us, but because I found it impossible to escape my past while starring it in the face everyday. A constant reminder of all that we have lost. There are pictures of ghosts all over my house. It is inescapable.
What you realize about these ghosts is that they become all that you have, along with the memories. The people you want to be around in the midst of tragedy, in the midst of success, are the people that have seen your ups and downs and loved you still. Some people are not capable of this. Some people will throw you under the bus as soon as things get hard. That’s okay. This is your journey not theirs. People don’t owe you anything, just as you don’t owe anyone anything.
I refuse to allow myself to be shrank down to a more palatable version of myself. I refuse to stop standing up for myself, no matter how people choose to label me. I hear all the rumours, I hear all the gossip, I am intimately aware of the many ways in which people hate me and yet all it does is motivate me to keep doing what I’m doing; people will always fear what they can’t capture. I am not like anyone else and anyone who doesn’t see that, can not see their own magic, so how could I expect them to see mine?
pretty words for wicked girls 