I am more
I am more…more worthy than the way you treated me.
I am more…more than the weak, fragile girl you took me for when you first glimpsed my wavering smile.
I am more…more than just a pretty face whose sole purpose is to visually please men.
I am more…more than just a body to be used as a vessel to fill a lecherous man’s physical needs.
I am more…more than the convenient labels of “slut” and “whore” that society has attached to me.
I am more…more than the multitude of lascivious men who have sexually harassed me and made me both ashamed to own my sexuality and walk down the street at any time of the day.
I am more…more than the bad situations I’ve entered into and allowed myself to tolerate in the past.
I am more…more than the mistreatment I’ve endured at the hands of multiple employers, some sexual and some verbal.
I am more…more than the raw emotion I’ve let countless toxic people dictate to be my constant, unhinged state.
I am more…more than the occasional solitude that washes over me and keeps me up at night.
I am more…more than the overt generosity that sometimes gets in the way of my better judgement and enables others to manipulate me.
I am more…more than the distant shadows of torment I endured as a teenager in high school.
I am more…more than the sins I’ve committed as I’ve found my way.
I am more…more than the sum of my deepest fears, anxieties, and insecurities.
I am more…more than the bottom-tier rung of society I sociologically inhabit and, more than the absence of my five PHD’s and memberships to elite organizations.
I am more…more of a woman than you could ever have bargained for.
I am more…strong, wise, and confident than I ever was before.
I am more…more beautiful than I grew up believing, but predominantly for the radiance that my inner beauty emits.
I am more…period.
And so are you, you just have to believe.