The engrained feminine response to external disapproval is something I won’t be able to shake for a long time and I know it. To this day when I realize I have made a mistake or let someone down in any capacity I am instantly overcome with the need to move, to bend, to shift, to make whatever space I think they need to show it was just a fluke, look at all I’ll do now to overcompensate, look at all the ways I can be competent, watch me stitch it back together twofold in half the time, I’ll be ashamed, I’ll be ashamed, I know better I promise I do, watch me reject myself for you, I can fix it for you, just please don’t think I’m any less whole for it. Please don’t stop recognizing the bare bones of my existence. Anything but that. I’ll die if it’s that