This damsel was not in distress, more like confinement
So self-sufficient that it efficiently kept me closed off
The one who made it bad for all left remnants of his doing
I wore that hurt like clothing
Self-love was my friend, it put me back together like lego pieces
I was so solid in self-affection, that it glued me to independence
So independent that I was the privilege and luxury
I set expectations so high that no man could reach
that was the problem
My walls were higher than Mt. Everest
I expected them to climb through my self-defense avalanches,
in hopes that they find the reward, me
I was the princess in the tower, yet I controlled the dragon
I became mad when they all failed to rescue me from loneliness
I was still bathing in hurt
my fragrance of choice was fuck them all
I put a bandaid on a stab wound and called it healing
I never looked back at that wound until today
I’m tired of not dealing with it, so here lies self-sabotage
I’ve had enough pity parties.
If you like this article, check out: https://stories.harnessmagazine.com/in-search-of-self/
