I’m not her anymore

I used to be one of those girls. One of those girls who was ready to prove that I was better than all of them, my eyes blazing with challenge.

I was more beautiful.

I was smarter.

I won him.

I was ready to track down his admirers, expose them in all my light that was as “beautiful and terrible as the dawn.” I aware, now, that I realized some time ago that there was no need to fight. I love him, I love him, but if he does not love me, he does not. I couldn’t be both the victim and the heroine. If he didn’t want the other girl, he would have to make the choice to walk away, block her number, let her fade away.

I don’t have to show her, or him, or even you… Who I am has so little to do with the ring I wear or how I don’t seem to care about the mess of my hair. I’d throw out all the mirrors–curse my reflection! My selfies, my ego, the competition is not at the heart of what God sees in me, nor am I mirroring him if that is all I see.




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