I Love You.

I am a liar. I wake up every morning with sadness in my eyes and disapproval on my lips. I am a liar because every time I see myself in the mirror I criticize my body until there is nothing left but bitter words plastered on the glass. How dare I preach to others about loving themselves when I spit hatred at my reflection? It’s easy though. It’s easy to tell the world that I am less in order to feel like more. I am short, I am not thin, I have thick hair, and thicker thighs but that’s okay. I also have eyes that capture the warmth of the sun, lips that contain adventures yet to be had, and my mind is nothing short of a wonderland. I see tides rise and suns that set, I can smell the sweetness of a rose, and taste the bitterness of the air, yet I still have the audacity to say to the world that,” I’m ugly.” Who gave me that right? Who said it was okay to criticize the master’s work, to claim that his creation isn’t worthy of my love. Would I have been willing to love a tall, skinny version of myself anymore or would I find more reasons to berate myself? I am a liar because though I preach a message of self-love and acceptance, I am drowning in my sickness. No man, nor woman can fix my disposition. There will never be enough times for a person to call me “fine.” The only way I can truly feel beautiful is when I can confidently acknowledge to myself that I am beautiful. When we continue to buy into the devil’s lies, we will always feel unworthy of love. I refuse to search for love in others until I find love in myself. It would be unfair to those around me to pretend that I love myself, then expect others to love me. No, by loving myself I am not being narcissistic or arrogant but rather I am acknowledging my worth in the grand scheme of things. I can spend the rest of my life trying to convince myself that I will never be “pretty enough” or “smart enough” for someone to love, or I can have faith in knowing that I was placed on this world to do more than sulk about my imperfections. It will always be hard to find myself appealing or beautiful especially when you spend your whole life surrounded by those who you have convinced are better than you. It’s okay. This is a love letter to me. So, to Sharne’ Lazarus, I think you are marvelous and smart. The ways that you walk and talk are reminiscent of your ancestors before you. Your shoulders are sturdy and your heart, wild. You hold the universe in your eyes and to that, I love you.