I had this insane idea that being perfect for him was what I needed to be.
To be amazing, smart and sexy was what I needed to be.
But now I’m done trying to be something I’m not.
No more trying to be his ideal woman, if he can’t accept me as I am then he is no good for me.
I’m not the thin, big boobs, tiny waist woman.
I’m the fiery redhead, messy hair, comfortable in sweat pants woman.
If I’m going to change it’s because I want to change, not because I am made to feel I have to change just to keep him.
I am not going to be this so-called ‘perfect woman’.
Yes, I laugh loud not some dainty little giggle.
I cry at movies until my face is red and my nose all snotty.
I’ll drink what I want when I want and yes, I’ll sometimes fall down drunk, so what!
I’m careful and reckless in one swift moment.
I’m messy and classy all in the same day.
I see the world through a child’s eyes just as easily as a grown woman’s.
I’m just as happy in a little black number as I am in my pj’s.
I’m so done with him keep breaking me down.
He has cheated on me and I forgave him.
He has ghosted me, then returned and still I forgave him.
He is unable to commit and still, I hoped one day he would.
We’ve both been broken, but I don’t break him down the way he has done to me.
I’m so done with his walls that go up and I’m supposed to just wait until he decides to let me in again.
I’m so done with putting my life on hold as that is what he expects me to do.
I will never be perfect for him in his eyes, so I’m done wasting my time.
I am enough, I always have been. He just stopped me from seeing that in myself.
I am done being his version of perfect because you know what?
I already am!