Chosen

Ever since I could remember, if I decided to get married, I wanted a decent-sized wedding. By decent-sized, I mean around a hundred people.

When my grandmother died, I realized I wanted this because I wanted people to see that I did it. Someone finally chose me. I wanted people to see I had a man for keeps.

I also realized once she died that being seen being chosen no longer mattered to me. When my grandmother left this earth, everything superficial in my life left with her.

I don’t need people to see a man choose me because I choose me.

That’s why I made the decision I did a couple of weeks ago. I know my value. I know my worth and I stood up for it.

At my grandmother’s funeral, I said I would never accept less than I deserve again and I’m going to keep that promise, to her and to myself. Yeah, I’ve encountered some bumps along the way, but no one said sticking to your principles is easy.

I’ve been doubting myself a lot lately, but thanks to a wonderful conversation with my cousin last night, that’s over. I know I did the right thing.

Because a choice between me and someone else is no choice at all.

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