My flaw, my fatal flaw … being considered beautiful in the eyes of the masses. It meant that the men of the planet wanted to sleep with me but because I was successful and intelligent and funny and had it together … that was all they wanted to do. It also meant there was no sympathy for me. I was one of the lucky ones. I had made it. The irony of it all … I survived ten years of domestic abuse and YEARS of heartache to become a motivational speaker, to teach others that they much value themselves … but one too many men shared their desire. They shared their bodies, and their desire but their heart belonged to another … and I wasnt good enough or too good, as they tried to say.
In the end it didnt matter, too good or not good enough …. the end result, the same.
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‘In the end it didnt matter, too good or not good enough …. the end result, the same’
-As in, it doesn’t matter how beautiful you are in life, that once you’re buried, the worms aren’t picky about whom they consume?