i've created a perfect monster.
this monster prevails because it is the unattainable me. i confess to giving it its power. it is perfection in all of its gloriously terrifying shapes, haunting me daily. it tells me, with whiter teeth and nicer clothes, that i have much to be desired: my attitude isn't happy enough, my desires aren't pure enough, my love-not faithful or true enough.
the words of this monster cut me to the core, shatters my identity, and leaves me picking up the pieces.
i self examine...
and find it all to be true.
my motives are flawed.
my attitude, a sorry sight.
my love, conflicted.
i begin the beatings:
you are a failure.
you don't deserve it.
you won't ever measure up.
i demand more from myself:
where does this get me?
not living like a daughter of the king.
abba, in you there is freedom from this monster, from these lies. this life isn't about being perfect, its about the beauty you create out of our imperfections. let me live into your kingdom today. make me beautiful.
make me a daughter of the king.