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knowingly instigating my own ostracism. If I could not be accepted, fuck it, I wanted to be hated.
Instead, I cemented my role in relationships as a pleaser, a convincer, a girl who, well into adulthood, would contort and conform to the desires of a man, overlooking his easy dismissal, and dampening her self-worth, all to be loved.
My life feels like a series of starts and stops, walking road after road, hoping to find the one that leads to something meaningful. Yet when I come to an intersection, instead of walking straight, I unfailingly turn left, beginning all over in a new direction.
