A few months ago while I was organizing my room, I discovered an old journal that I used to write in when I was younger.
Lord, I was something else.
Many of my entries consisted of insecurities about my body: this wasn’t good enough, that definitely wasn’t good enough. I also wrote down the hurtful things that bullies said would say to me. Looking back to it now, it appeared as if I was a hypocrite—here I was complaining about bullies, but I was being one to myself.Read More