I don’t owe you an explanation for my choices.
I don’t owe you my time or attention.
I don’t owe you forgiveness for past mistakes.
I don’t owe you my happiness.
I don’t owe you an apology for being true to myself.
I don’t owe you my success.
I don’t owe you a fight for your approval.
I don’t owe you my dreams.
I don’t owe you an excuse for my actions.
I don’t owe you my trust.
I don’t owe you an apology for speaking my mind.
I don’t owe you an explanation for my boundaries.
I don’t owe you my love.
I don’t owe you an apology for being different.
I don’t owe you my dreams.
I don’t owe you an explanation for my beliefs.
I don’t owe you my loyalty.
I don’t owe you an apology for being successful.
I don’t owe you my happiness.
I don’t owe you an explanation for my goals.
I don’t owe you my time or attention.
I don’t owe you an apology for choosing myself.
I don’t owe you my trust.
I don’t owe you an explanation for my decisions.
I don’t owe you an apology for being independent.
I don’t owe you my love.
I don’t owe you an excuse for living my life the way I want.
I don’t owe you my success.
I don’t owe you an apology for following my dreams.
I don’t owe you my loyalty.
I don’t owe you an explanation for my happiness.
I don’t owe you an apology for being true to myself.
I don’t owe you my time or attention.
I don’t owe you an excuse for being who I am.
I don’t owe you my trust.
I don’t owe you an apology for living my life on my terms.
I don’t owe you my love.
I don’t owe you an explanation for my choices.
I don’t owe you my success.
I don’t owe you an apology for being different.
I don’t owe you my happiness.
I don’t owe you an excuse for my actions.
I don’t owe you my dreams.
I don’t owe you an apology for speaking my mind.
I don’t owe you an explanation for my boundaries.
I don’t owe you my trust.
I don’t owe you an apology for being successful.
I don’t owe you my happiness.
I don’t owe you an explanation for my goals.
I don’t owe you my time or attention.
The world was hers for the reading — Betty Smith, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn
One must always be careful of books and what is inside them, for words have…
We tell ourselves stories in order to live — Joan Didion, The White Album