Monday, April 25, 2011

The truth about Me.

My affliction gave me a pleasure unspoken of... a feeling that left me wanting more...

Why do so many women hate themselves? What a tragedy...

Sometimes, those vile nightmares still sneak into my bed, roll under my covers... in each breath, my dreams are paralyzed by the scent of hell. Point blank, I used to hate myself.

It was a wicked disease, crawling beneath my skin.

Musk of hurt, disappointment, shame and guilt transmitted from my brain into my soul. Detrimental.

I hated my dark skin. I hated my nappy hair. I hated my fragile body. I hated how I didn't accomplished anything great like my counterparts, and if I did, it was never ever good enough.

But nobody knew. Which made it worse.

Days of suckling on the Devil's venom of self-destruction were woven into my addiction.
In the past, I was a coward. Not to face the world. But to love myself.

...would you believe that I just started truly loving myself?

It's amazing how God loves us when we don't even love ourselves... Now ain't that the truth?

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