“You infected my mind
and your voice still tells me
I’m not good enough. But I am.”
I’m here to say I am good enough. I could defend my position until I’m blue in the face. Tell you I’ve overcome, done all these things you said I’d never do because I was ugly, or destined for failure, or worthless. It wouldn’t matter. You’re dead, and there’s no changing that. But see, here’s the thing. You spent all those years reminding me of who I was, molding me into the girl you wanted me to be. And even though you’re dead, your voice is loud and clear in my mind. I can’t tell you to shut up. I can’t confront you and ask you why. So I’m stuck here, listening to your voice on repeat. Hoping one day you’ll get tired and die there too. I don’t know if that will happen. Until then, I’m going to listen to music at full blast to drown you out. I’m going to bleed ink and write on those pages like my life depends on it.
Because it does.
© Sarah Doughty
I’m going to look at my husband and my son, and see the people who love me. I’m going to keep doing all those things you told me I would never do.
Because I fucking can.