Recluse. Brooding. Man-whore. Rough.
Labels can set us up for success—or for failure.
I’ve always hated them.
There’s a reason for mine.
I dream of it morning, noon, and night.
Egocentric. Greedy. Cruel. Self-loathing.
Labels shape the lonely woman I’ve become.
And I hate the person I allowed myself to be.
I hurt the only man I’ve ever loved.
He haunts me every time I close my eyes.
Labels are worn like badges—
of honor or of horror.
They don’t define me.
But I’m judged by them anyway.