You size me up from head to toe. “I’m prettier than you” you tell yourself, so you may feel better. You go on your entire life judging other’s mistakes, and you feel entitled for doing so because you’ve done everything “right” your entire life. You feel you are the perfect female role model, always going by the book of rules. But I’m not intimidated by the immaculate. I am proud of my scars which contain full length biographies. My mistakes and the beautiful stories in between. My imperfections and the rare journies towards improvement. I’ve tasted pain, compassion, hate, anger, and love. I have the courage to commit the sins no one else could. Go through the road no one else dare to take. With luck and courage, I always came out scarred but in tact, rewarded with wisdom from an extraordinary journey.
I allow you to judge me but I pity you. Your perfection is safe, but mediocre. It is my life that others yearn for. For it is with my life that you taste the gamut of experiences from bitter to sweet; feel the emotions of sadness to elation, failure to success, love and hate, black and white, ostracized to belonging, destruction to creation. My life is beautiful and I’m beautiful because of it.