Be my queen, I told myself one day, after I got good and tired of waiting for someone else to say it to me. There would be no more picking up my phone expectantly, hoping for that magical text, call, or email that would confirm my lovability, my desirability, or remind me of whether someone cared. There would be no more hanging out “one last time” with people who were only available for relationships of convenience, hoping that this time would be the time they would finally decide to stay, to listen, or to open their eyes to who I truly was. And there would definitely be no more excuses for treating myself badly, abusing my body with the kinds of things that robbed me of my integrity, my dignity, or my health because I felt empty and unlovable inside. Be my queen, I told myself, the day I finally accepted the truth that no man wanted to accept the responsibility or the uncertainty of loving an unwieldy person like me, already bursting at the seams with dreams, ideas, and an inner playground of her own. Instead, I was ready to love me, to honor me, and to protect me for the rest of my life. I was ready to hold me, to accept me, to understand me, and to give myself what I had been so sorely lacking, which was safety and self-compassion. I do my best to treat this queen — me — not as someone to be feared, despised, or controlled, but instead as a source of light in her own right, and who deserves to finally be seen as such. ❤️‍🔥—Y.B.D.