by Thought Catalog
You think you are going to save me. You don’t know what that means. People have sold you this image of a knight, or a prince, or at least a hero in a Purple Label suit, but it is silly. I don’t need that, and even if I wanted it, I am not so shallow as to think that a stranger could provide it for me.
I say that I love you, and maybe I do, but it will always pale in comparison to the aching, complex, ultimately rewarding love I have for myself. Over the past 20-something years, I have learned to grow comfortable with myself. There are parts of me I would change, but overall, I think that I’m a good person. I touch myself with care. I forgive myself. So many people who have claimed to love me have not afforded me the same courtesy. It’s not…
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