18 November 2013


I have them. They show up whenever I feel threatened or unsure about something. They cause my chest to tighten, my attitude to harden, and steal my smile.

They are ugly. They are usually unfair. Untrue. Yet they creep their way into the happiest of places, on the rarest occasions, uninvited. 

I have them.

They make me laugh the most fake of laughs. Trying to conceal their ugliness with as much made up confidence I can muster. They make me feel not good enough. Disposable. Less valuable. They are lies. They love to tell the story. 

Sometimes I listen. 

Then I come to and call them by its name, liar. I come to. Grasping for truth. Taking back the thoughts and words I let slip. Suffocating. Pulling off the cover. The lie I let live. It will fade away but its residue remains. Reminding me that it has no place in this beautiful life. It can't live here. It has no love. 

Insecurities. I have them. 

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