enough is enough.

She looked in the mirror, and broke down everything she saw.


She wanted to know what qualities made her unlovable, like able, desired. A year ago, she lost everything she liked about herself in the compromise of love. She tucked back a strand of thick auburn colored hair, the strand that always fell in her face and wondered  if that was something quirky he had once liked about her. She stared at the curves of her body and questioned if he liked the way she wasn't petite, but very much full figured. Her big, brown eyes which once promised love and happiness, now was a pool of insecurity and doubt. When they would tell her she was beautiful, the words bull shit sprang to her mind. For she had once had a broken heart, something she never really recovered from. All the empty words, the blank i love you's, were finally taking a toll on her. Her body was wanted, but what about her mind and her heart? Men left those things untouched. Maybe she gave love away too easily? Maybe she didn't give it away enough. She touched a scar on her right knee, given to her by a shard of glass when she was eight. She remembered his lips kissing it as he spoke "I'll never let you fall down without helping you back up." Where was he now? The one who promised to always be there? Was she not beautiful enough to be more than a man's lover? Tears streamed down her face, all the things she hoped to be just seemed like aimless dreams. She wanted to be something so much more than what she felt like she was. She suffered in the name of love, but nothing she ever did could suffice to make anyone happy. Was she unhappy? Not entirely, for there were those rare moments where life felt like fire to her. When she talked about her passions, you could see it in her eyes and for a moment she could feel happiness. But when she was alone, her mind wandered to the men who had left scars in her mind. All of them, treating her like she wasn't good enough. 


Enough was enough.


She loved the way her hair fell in her face. And her big brown eyes? They may not promise love and happiness anymore, but they did promise passion and trust. Her body was her own, and she loved every curve and bump God had graced her with. Every promise broken, every empty word, was a weight that had made her stronger. She was beautiful. And not because society told her so, but because she believed that she was. Every heart break, every phone call that was never returned, was something that would make her appreciate "Mr.Right" in the long run. She smiled, a real smile for the first time in a long time. 


I am good enough, for a relationship and for love.