Suri Purefoy

United States of America

"Step into a scene and let it drip from your fingertips." MJ Bush
Be the person you can only be. Write what only you can write. Never look back. You have something that you and only you can put into the world. So don't hold it back. Let it shine!

Message to Readers

<3 Suri

Someday, Me

August 14, 2018

I used to hate myself. Granted then, I didn't realize. I thought I was ok. It never occurred to me like that. It never clicked how negative and hurtful my head screamed at me everyday, creating this false identity that absolutely absorbed my true self, or the self that deep inside my heart knew I could be..
Before I was 8, it only mattered that my clothes were pretty and could twirl like a princess. Singing like a superstar, posing like a model. Head held high, lipstick smeared across my lips like the coolest fashion statement. Walking around in pretend gouche bags and prada heels. Life was a dream, and I was the coolest girl.
Age 12. Uncomfortable and embarrassed about my growing chest. Hats tucked as far down my forehead without tearing the hat off my head were the best thing. Makeup was off limits. 
Life continued. It was all profane drama, finding friends, cute boys. I stopped talking, even with my friends. They liked to talk, they could do that part and I could just listen. I was hurt, torn, tossed between arguments like that thing that could fix it all. I eventually came to some kind of conclusion that I and everyone else would be better off with me shutting my mouth. My opinions could stay filed away. I felt that by me not sharing would allow everyone else to be happier and create less conflict. So I didn't share my thoughts or feelings. I smiled, laughed too much, pretended to agree, and, eventually, agreed with whoever it would make happy because I didn't have an opinion myself. "Let them choose." My life moto 12-15. Then she moved in.
Strong, beautiful, confident, honest, believing, and loving. She spoke up. She expressed. She laughed. She cried. She was fearless. And she wasn't afraid to be herself.
The clothes she wore. The things she did. The words she spoke. They all represented her and a part of who she was. She wouldn't let others degrade her. She would said that it didn't matter what other people think of you, it only matters what you think of yourself. She walked with her held high. She told jokes. Laughed. Smiled. Frowned. Cried. She loved who she was, and she knew exactly who she was.
I started to change. I didn't realize it at first, but everyday I was trying harder and harder to be like her. She encouraged me. She talked to me. I started to lose weight. I cut my hair short with bangs. I wore different clothes, or tried to. But the real change didn't happen until she moved away.
And that's when I decided that I wanted to be different. I wanted to change. I wanted to. To be an example to someone else like she had been to me. I started to give myself compliments. I told myself that I was worth it, I was enough, I could do anything. I could be myself. 
At first in that process, it was me wanting to change, and to be more like her. I would pick clothes that she would wear. Try to say things like she would say. Eventually, I began to not want to be her. I wanted to be me. Not her, not anyone else. Me.
I decided to leave the old, fake me behind and never look back. I started to love myself.
I lost weight. I bought a new wardrobe. I went on hikes. I exercised. I started talking. I started to share my opinions, even if it was just to myself. I started to discover who I was.
16. Boys, dates. Driving. Life happened. I struggled. Had questions I couldn't find answers to. Friends came closer, then drifted again and again. Family things happened, and it tore me apart. I put this weight on me and refused to let anyone else help carry it, because I didn't want them to feel the same pain I did. I fell apart. I drifted. Not until months after did I realize how much that had healed me.
It took time, and still I'm searching and questioning, trying everyday to love myself and help others love themselves. 
Yes, I'm not perfect. There's still some fat I would love to lose. Still days that I burn myself to the ground. But the days that are hard only make me want to try harder. I love who I am. I love my body, my hair, my goofy laugh, my little nose. I love my attitude, I love my opinions and I try to share them more and more. I love myself.
I'm still trying, learning and growing. 
But one thing's for sure. I'm better than I was before.

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1 Comment
  • engi_aek

    'She' sounds like a wonderful, beautiful person, and so do you. I'm positive you've been that person to someone else, or you definitely will, with you bright, perceptive outlook. I love your tone and voice, and the beginning of your poem I related to so much! The rest of it I also felt very close to, especially the end. It's hard to love yourself isn't it? But the world's more beautiful when you do! xxxxxxxxx needed to read this today, thanks, and keep it up!


    over 1 year ago