I Can’t Walk In Heels

I used to think that life was so full of colors, bright oranges, sincere yellows and pink. I used to think that going from living at home to living with someone you barely know wasn’t so bad. I dreaded the times when my mom would bust open the door and force me to tell her if everything was okay with me. Because now, all I can ever hear are the screams in my head telling me that I am not, echoing off of the bones in my ribcage and falling down deeper inside of me. I thought I could walk perfectly in heels. I thought I could manage being alone inside of myself. I thought I was past all of those ugly feelings pent up in my heart. But now, I’m feeling less beautiful since I bit my tongue, since my manager racially profiled me, since a cigarette was placed on the back of my hand, since my intoxication was the deciding factor of a friendship, since I locked myself out of my room and since I’ve broken far beyond my insides. I’ve tried to repair myself a million times. I’ve tried to understand myself deeper than the surface. I’ve tried. I’ve tried. I’ve tried. But all I can do is continue to grow. I’m growing now and it’s hard, hardest thing I’ve done by myself in a while.

I’m figuring it out. I’m trying my best. And I value my life and who I am. Even when I say I don’t. Even when I look into the mirror and don’t like what I see.

I can’t walk in heels right now but soon, I won’t even need them. Because I’ll be completely okay with who I am.

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