You have my permission not to love me.
I know that at times, I am
breaking down walls,
devastating in my destruction. And yes, I realize that I will never be
that easy Sunday morning that you always craved.
But what I am not
is a living apology.
I will not carry around with me a
suitcase filled with
all the times I failed to be the person
you wanted me to be.
You don’t have to love me,
because I can love myself.