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Sometimes I get nostalgic. Especially when I smell a certain..
🕑 Added 2021-12-19 15:30:07 +0000 UTC Sometimes I get nostalgic. Especially when I smell a certain scent or taste a particular food. I think upon those moments that I convinced myself were happy. But as I go over those hazy memories, the only thing I feel is that familiar pit in my stomach. It started out as shame. Each beat of my heart pumped shame through my body. The shame of being poor. The shame of being too much. The shame of not being enough. The shame of being my Father’s daughter. Shame is simply a tool: an effective one, used by those who want to hold power over you—parents, family, friends, bosses. They diminish you. They remind you of how small you are. How small you’ll always be. When you me**et yourself truly, the shame disappates. So to those who ask “where’s my sense of shame?” It’s gone and in its place—a raging fire.
