You told me that my value is worth more than the men that I choose, the last time I was crushed by my illusions of glass slippers and happy endings. Enunciated every word as if you had been afraid that I would forget them. As if you were trying to make an imprint in the part of my mind that regulates morals, self-doubt and confidence. Insurmountable parts of my life that, as we are both aware, are not so dominant. It is not so much your intentions of providing that authoritative example that I had been lacking before I bloomed into a full fledged flower. The primary problem we currently possess is that I am a twenty one year old woman, a dismantled mess, who had been chewed up and spit out for twenty other years of her life. Ceaselessly being reminded that she is a speck in a world where other’s feelings matter more. That if people knew she had a boyfriend at the age of fourteen who gave her a hickey the size of the masked bruises on her body, her much more “conservative” family would consider her a whore. No. No. That’s not what it was. You were afraid that she would not live up to the unadulterated example of the “innocent success driven” child you portrayed for them since the day that she was born. So you continued to slather on false truths in hopes of having her become. Interestingly enough, in the process, you destroyed her reason for being. Reminding her that she will not speak unless spoken to. That she will hold the emotions of others in high regard because “it is selfish to place your needs above others”. Oh, lest I forget. As you habitually advised her ad infinitum, that she is essentially, “A piece of shit and God Dammit if it were up to me, I would decide that you’re the least favorable of the three”. How amusing to witness you mirror back all the men that I have chosen. Then simultaneously question how I could have possibly grown into a withered self doubting rose. Lacking in confidence, the inability to say no, and a growing need to empathize with those I don’t know. With a knack of choosing men who have reminded her that her voice is voiceless. Her time; invaluable. Her opinions; unsubstantial. A flower bred from a lethal seed. While many were taught that the only thing one should fear is fear itself… you inspired the perpetuated thought that the only fear worth fearing is the fear of being me.