I'd probably dye my hair red again, too.
But I'm afraid you won't take me seriously. Like you won't think I'm very professional. My Masters degree will mean nothing. Somehow, I'm scared I'll lose all my credibility if I conduct myself in a way that is perceived as less than my age. Than my maturity level. I'm too old for this.
You see, I want to live up to your expectations. I bet you knew that already. I like to live in a world where I disguise it well. My affection for your approval.
But can I tell you something? It's exhausting.
I never really know what you're thinking. You keep me guessing, but not in the sexy way like my husband does. It's awfully frustrating. Living up to this standard you've set for me, but you'll never really tell me what it is. Always beating around an ever-evolving bush.
Be true to yourself. Exceed expectations. Reach for the sky. You control your own destiny. You can be whatever you want to be. Create your own opportunities. Think outside the box.
But not too far of course.
You know something? I'm thinking you should just leave me alone for a while. Go on. Leave me be. I need to be on my own with my thoughts for a while. Figure out what I really think of myself. Ask God what He thinks of me. I don't know if I've ever asked Him before. I was too concerned with you.
I would say it's not you, but lets be real. It is you. And it's me, too. We'll take mutual responsibility for this one.
We can talk again when I can finally say out loud with my life,
You're not the boss of me.