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To Sticks. To Stones.

For quite awhile now, I have let other people’s opinion about me weigh me down. I have let their estimation constrain me in a box labeled as “please them”. I must admit, I clung onto their approval. Their say-so’s were my go signal. This can be justified somehow if these people really do give a rat’s ass a propos my happiness. Except that they do not.

What am I afraid of? What am I trying to hold on to? No matter how many times I say sticks and stones, the truth is a part of me cringe in every minuscule unpleasant comment hurled at me. And, in my opinion, this goes for everybody. I find it impossible to utterly detach ourselves to the upshot of how others perceive us. In one way or another, whether we like it or not, we are somehow shaped into who we are by how others make out of us. We all have this certain person or group we try so hard to please, we seek to impress. The setback crops up the moment we realize that we have to draw a thin line between those who deserve our effort and those who are just there to hinder us.

For quite awhile now, I have censored myself because of the judging stares. It now came to a point that I care less and less.

Less and less is good.

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