He made me think I was this beautiful goddess. He comments and compliments made me feel like I was important to the world. That I was an asset, even a necessity to the world I walk upon. He told me I was the perfect girl that everything I hated about myself was what he wanted. I hated my tan skin, but he called it a golden honey, my dark frizzy hair, but he called it a curly amazement, my overweight stomach, he called it his kids’ future home, my height was an embarrassment for me, he loved he could look down at me. Lastly I sometimes was discouraged that I was the only Chilean girl, he reassured me time and time again, he hated Cuban girls.
To this day I keep wondering if his words were a lie. If he meant anything he told me. I don’t want to believe it was a lie. Although the tall light skin light eyed Cuban girl kind of makes you think it was…right? The night I found out he slept with her; I wanted to injure so badly. I wanted to punish myself for not being beautiful enough, for not being skinny enough, most of all I wanted to punish myself for not being perfect. To this day I cant look in the mirror and not feel the need to injure.
Will I ever be good enough for anyone and believe it?