I will hear the words. I will hear the hate. I will see the pain. I will see their fate. It may not be me, it may not be her, but whoever it is, I will feel hurt. They will tell me I’m not good enough, not strong enough, not smart enough, not small enough. They will tell me I can’t sit with them, they will tell me I can’t be one of them, and they will tell me I will never be like them. They will wear short skirts and high waisted t-shirts. They will make their hair straight and I will contemplate, why?
Why do they curse? Why to they bully? Why do they hurt? Why was it me, why was it her? Why am I not good enough, not strong enough, not smart enough, not small enough? Why can’t I sit with them, be one of them, never be like them? Why do they want to show skin? Why do they want their hair straight? I still contemplate.
But you know what I discovered? You want to know what I found? That God made me the way I am and that’s He’s proud. I don’t curse, because it’s wrong. I don’t hate, because that wasn’t my fate. I don’t hurt because when other people hurt, that’s my hurt as well. I am good enough, strong enough, smart enough, and small enough for God. My size is just a number; it does not define who I am. I don’t need to sit with then, because I’m sitting next to Jesus. I don’t want to be like them, because I want to be like Jesus. I don’t want to show my skin, because I’m waiting for the one who will think I’m precious instead of prideful. I don’t want my hair straight, because my waves are endless strings of gold. And you know what?
I don’t contemplate anymore.

tfios-changed-my-life

One of the first things they ask you in the ER is to rate your pain on a scale from 1 to 10. I’ve been asked this question hundreds of times and… I remember once, when I couldn’t catch my breath and I felt like my chest was on fire. The nurse asked me to rate the pain, though I couldn’t speak I held up nine fingers. Later, when I start to feeling better, the nurse came in and she called me a fighter. "You know how I know?" she said, "you called a 10 a 9." But that wasn’t the truth. I didn’t called it a 9 ‘cause I was brave. The reason I called it a 9 was because I was saving my 10.

And this was it. This was the great and terrible 10. 

paper-roses-and-toxic-love
paper-roses-and-toxic-love:

Cause the players gonna play, play, play, play, playAnd the haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hateBaby, I’m just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shakeI shake it off, Ishake it offHeartbreakers gonna break, break, break, break, breakAnd the fakers gonna fake, fake, fake, fake, fakeBaby, I’m just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shakeI shake it off, I shake it off

paper-roses-and-toxic-love:

Cause the players gonna play, play, play, play, play
And the haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate
Baby, I’m just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake
I shake it off, Ishake it off
Heartbreakers gonna break, break, break, break, break
And the fakers gonna fake, fake, fake, fake, fake
Baby, I’m just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake
I shake it off, I shake it off