I am a Goddess

I know myself very well; and because I know myself so very well, I know that I am a Goddess. So, when a man looks at the imperfections of my body or learns how wild my mind gets — and he doesn’t see me as a Goddess, I already know that he’s not a man of depth. I knows he’s not a man of art, a man of passion or of life — he’s a man that lacks substance, being led by the density of the world instead of leading himself. I know that his soul rots, his heart is dull, and his mind is a bore 🥱. Therefore, his flaws are not attractive to me either.