We worry. We compare ourselves to others. We're not good enough. Our hair isn't pretty enough. We're too short. We're too tall. We're too fat. We stop eating.
We try to get boys to like us. They like our friend. We feel ugly. We think no boy could ever want us. We cry about the present. We cry about the future. We cry ourselves to sleep.
We suppress it. We pretend. We endure the day. We get home. We don't feel good enough. We self harm. We can't cope. We feel hopeless. We fall to our knees and despair.
We call out to God. We ask where he is. We ask him for help. We doubt that he's listening. We know he's not listening. We ask why he's not listening. We ask if he cares. We don't think he does.
We're wrong.
We realize he was there all along. We realize he was holding us in his arms the whole time. We cry. We get up. We brush ourselves down. We smile.
We feel good enough. We don't self harm. We don't cry ourselves to sleep. We don't despair.
