I grew up being read fairy tales and being called a princess. It’s probably no surprise that I have spent most of my life trying to look the part of someone in need of saving, failing to recognize that I was the one climbing towers and fighting off dragons in order to be the Belle of the ball. I spent so much time looking for saving in the temporary houses of others because I didn’t think I was responsible for the saving I had already done. I wasn’t really looking for a prince to ride off into the sunset with, I was using these bodies to remind me of my own worth.
Each time liquor lined lips touch my neck, I was reminded that there are veins in there. There is blood that flows throughout my veins and gives color to this skin I live in. Sometimes I forget that I am alive; a body holding a soul that has enchanting powers. I am a castle high upon a hill with blood that has been passed on to me from a royal lineage. I am the result of two people who loved each other, and that is truly magical.
When handsome hands brush through my hair and leave shivers down my spine, I remember that I am capable of surprising myself. I always thought it was the way strangers’ fingertips touched me that sent electricity through my vertebrae, but it was me. The electricity was conducted from my own hair and the interaction that was my hair grazing over my own shoulder that startled me. I forgot that connecting with myself is something that made me feel alive.
Whenever my collarbone is caressed or kissed, I no longer think that I need bones to be protruding to be loved, but now consider that the parts of me that are convenient are the ones being adored. It was always just a coincidence that there were parts of me that you gravitated towards. I know that I will find love, even if the branches of my wings take shelter closer to my heart.
I always thought that my hand being held had to do with someone thinking that I needed to be reminded that they were there. I had a habit of disappearing, even when my body was still present. I was neglectful of my own knowledge. My hand was being held because of the security I provided others, it was them finding refuge in my touch, not the other way around. I fell for fragile people and brought myself to that level in order to convince them that they were the ones saving me. I know now that I was not kind to myself. I was the one who picked myself up each time, not them.
I hope that others learn to be kinder to themselves as well and realize that at the end of the day, you are the hero in your own story. You have so much worth, so please stop attributing your success to other people, you did this. You were the one to love yourself, even though you needed someone else to project your own feelings unto you.
Featured image Tiko Giorgadze on Unsplash
