There’s been something lethal in the cool-aid I’ve been drinking my whole life. I recently realized it and started to extract the slow-killing poison out of my insides.
My need to feel loved causes me to try to earn it. I work to reshape myself into someone more qualified—a celebrity, a Cosmo woman, a business CEO, a New York Times best-selling author, or a Mother Theresa-type. Whatever combination of masks works.