Poem Of Self Worth Novels & Stories

"When you were trapped in that apartment, trying to piece together a life while he took everything you had for granted. Now he has nothing, and you have this." "It isn't about what he lost, Damien," I told him softly, locking my gaze onto his. "It's about what we survived. I spent years thinking my worth was tied to making someone else comfortable. Building this foundation isn't about getting back at Daniel or proving anything to Victor. It's about finally standing on my own two feet." Damien stared at me for a long, breath-taking moment. The fierce pride and profound love in his eyes was so strong it brought a sudden, warm sting of tears to the backs of my eyes.

She really couldn’t. He wrapped his arms around her, pressing his large body into her back. Tessa took a shuddering breath, closed her eyes. She so wanted to like herself, she’d wanted it for so fucking long, she couldn’t remember a time when she’d ever truly thought she was worth much, or worth loving. And the sad, pathetic truth was that she tied all her self-worth up in the size of her thighs, and her ability to maintain rigid, unbending control over her weight. She always had. Enough. Just – just fucking enough.

But once the question landed, the words came faster than she expected. She opened her notebook and wrote: For the girl I used to be— Who thought survival meant silence. And for every woman who believed her worth depended on being chosen. You are not hard to love. You are not hard to keep. You are already enough. —Sophia Grant When the first copy of her book arrived in the mail, she didn’t immediately open the packaging. She sat with it in her lap, fingers tracing the edges. It felt heavy—but not in a burdensome way. It felt full. Like something sacred had been sealed within its pages.

"I get it Zee. I really do." "No, I do not think you do. Because you say that you get it, I mean the words do come out of your mouth. But I can not help think that you did not understand that. That you took the complete opposite instead. I know how you are, and I know how you do it. You are happy, and then one slip up, no matter how minimal it is. It knocks down everything that you have worked on. Or it takes down everything that you have worked for. It is not worth it. It is not worth your mental state of mind, neither is it worth you being miserable or worst than that. You thinking that you are not worth it. Because you are, I will keep saying it, until it gets cemented in to your head. Y

I was not a silly little girl. At that time, I did not know it but he was the first person to identify my worth. It was the first time I received praises that did not come to me as Rufus Adelard’s child, but as Persephone, my own person. Even I had come to attach most of my worth to my father’s reputation. I squashed the good feelings rising inside me hard and fast. There was no reason to feel good because a man was telling me words that were meant to make me feel good. I could not be deceived by a man in both of my lifetimes.

I got up abruptly and paced back and fourth in my room, she's not making any sense. "When you were born you were the most gorgeous little thing I've ever seen, you weren't ugly when you were born my dear, you were stunning. Everyone admired your beauty it was almost unearthly, it wasn't until your second year birthday that your face changed and became what it was." My mouth hung open I surprise. "So you mean—" "What ever made you ugly back then has left you, so embrace the real you and admire yourself, if you don't value yourself or increase your self worth people won't value you."

He leaned over her and started getting intimate. When she yielded to him, he smiled. “Also, you love me. That means I’m already worthy, right?” “Hmm…” Well, she can’t exactly argue. “Then, you should keep yourself worthy.”

And just like that a blurry voice and an image that she assumed that was part of her memory appeared in her mind. 'A woman's worth is more than a man could never work for. A woman is a powerful person who gives light. A woman has been given a womb and a man's part and yet she can give life. A woman has been given a house and yet she made it a home that is full of warmth. A woman is someone who was given a simple thing but can give back precious treasures. A woman has never been worthless. Always remember you are a woman. And you are worth it"

The flowers, delicate and enduring, seemed to embody the resilience and beauty of those who had shared their stories. Later, Yam organized a small reading session—Letters From Nobody, Responded By Everybody. Participants read entries aloud anonymously, followed by open replies offered like small gifts. One letter said: “I feel like the only person who doesn’t know how to be happy.” A reply came softly from someone in the back: “Happiness isn’t a requirement for worth. You’re already enough.” These words resonated deeply, a reminder that worth was not contingent on external validation.

My favorite poet is Emily Dickson. If at all I died, it is because I wanted to, I have always wanted to, because I feel unworthy, I dint love myself at all. I hope this doesn’t break your heart or diminish your spirit. Anyway, my part on earth is over, I am sorry that it is. Maybe reincarnations are real or perhaps they aren’t. I am sorry papa, sorry that I didn’t live up to your expectations. I am sorry that I wasn’t worth it, I wasn’t a perfect child at home and at school. I have always been flawed, and my flaws are too big, they can’t be covered or repaired. Tell the bullies that I give up and they win.