The Perks of Being a Wallflower, or at Least the Perks of Being Me
Dear friend,
I know it's been a while; however, since we last met, I've been introduced to a new friend named Charlie. Like me, he craves milkshakes when high and has to deal with the repercussions of mental illness and sexual assault. I've bonded a lot with him. Also, what I learned most from him is a new phrase, "We accept the love we think we deserve."
Let me repeat that again, maybe it'll sink in better that way, "We accept the love we think we deserve." Maybe I pick guys who treat me like shit and allow them to do so because somewhere deep inside I'm afraid I'm only worth about as much as a piece of shit. I'm afraid of being abused, but I allowed my abuser to take advantage of me. Perhaps, because in the moment, I saw myself as nothing more than a victim. And in my wildest dreams, I never saw myself as a heroine. Maybe. Just maybe that explains things. Maybe it'll make things clearer for you as well. Even if it doesn't, thank you for listening to me ramble on.
As always, thanks for listening,
me
