Recluse. Brooding. Man-whore. Rough.

Labels can set us up for success—or for failure.
I’ve always hated them.

There’s a reason for mine.
I dream of it morning, noon, and night.

Egocentric. Greedy. Cruel. Self-loathing.

Labels shape the lonely woman I’ve become.
And I hate the person I allowed myself to be.

I hurt the only man I’ve ever loved.
He haunts me every time I close my eyes.

Labels are worn like badges—
of honor or of horror.

They don’t define me.
But I’m judged by them anyway.