Teenage Me learned to love the faults

Little Me didn't know she had.

From the spots on my cheeks

To the shape of my hands

My gait,

My demeanor and more,

Forming a sea of insecurities

That used to have no shore.

Raised cheekbones, a flat belly,

Years of unlearning that

This isn’t what it means to be pretty.

"Good girls aren't aggressive,

Big boys don't cry"

Shedding these inhibitions

Is the only way to fly.

I'm tired of these expectations

weighing me down

Making me choke,

making me drown.


Author: Divya Agarwal

Editor Ananya Chaure

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