Sometimes I’m not a nice person. I’m rude, and mean, and insulting. I’m abusive. I’m ashamed of some of the things I’ve said and done. And it needs to stop. Now. I’ve said things out of disgust, and hatred, and fear, and sadness. And every single time, it’s been directed at the very same person. That 5’1 brunette that stares back at me from the mirror. For as long as I can...