Letters to Self

I was told that the man of my dreams would never exist. A traveler. Smart. Dedicated. Loyal. Accepting of my flaws, the way I do not brush my hair. A smile, some half crooked teeth. It is easy to convince a girl, raised fatherless, turned single mother that I was unlovable. The message was constant, consistent. Bubble that I live in hopping from place to place.  Thousands of miles between pavement and these feet.  And, maybe, those forewarnings called foreshadowing of how I was meant to be alone were true. But what they failed to mention was how beautiful and fulfilled I would be.  There is no emptiness, just fulfillment with stories of self, a world awaiting discovery, heart full of self-love.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *