I am not the same girl who used to do for people who failed to put in effort themselves. The girl who used to get excited when someone dedicated her the smallest sum of affection, because she took whatever she could get.
I am not the same girl I was when I was younger. She was innocent. Naive. Too trusting. “Shes seen” the best in people, because she didn’t know what they were capable of doing yet. She didn’t understand how hard a heart could break.
But now, I am more experienced. I have been hurt before. I have been lied to, resulted on, and betrayed. I can no longer call myself an optimist, because I have insured the darkest parts of people I once trusted.
I should be bitter about all of the shit I’ve been through, but honestly, I consider it a good thing. My worst days have helped shaped me into someone different. Person strong.
I am not a pushover anymore. I am not going to allow anyone to treat me as a backup plan. I am not going to allow anyone to string me along without making a commitment. I am not going to lower my standards because I happen to have impressions for someone who clearly doesn’t feel the same way.
I am not going to give out third and fourth chances anymore. I am not going to answer someone’s text if it took them three days to respond to mine. I am not going to rearrange my schedule to see someone if they keep canceling and rescheduling. I am not going to use all of my energy to stimulate someone else happy while neglecting my happiness.
I am not going to let other people take advantage of me anymore. I am not going to help out a friend if my schedule is packed and the extra activity would push me over the edge. I am not going to kiss person if I don’t feel a trigger, just because they bought me a drink at the bar. I am not going to feel like I am been obliged to do something for someone else when I have a.
I am not the same girl who used to keep quiet, who used to go with the flow, who used to let people take advantage of her kindness. I am not the same daughter who used to think so little of herself and so highly of everyone else.
Some people might say that I am not as nice anymore. Some people might have liked me better before, because back then, I let them get away with murder. I let them walk all over me.
But I am happy with who I am now, because I have finally realized my worth. I have finally raised my standards to where they should have been all along. I have finally decided that I deserve more than what some people are willing to give me — and that it is okay hanging in there when I’m not getting enough.
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