The former. Because best believe, these insecurities are what made me, I am. They are here to be my harsh, vile critics. And still they are mine and me first. Born and gave birth to me, a cycle unbreakable. This doesn't mean I am in love too much with being insecure, no, but I haven't learned to mourn properly for myself, even after countless mourning for other people.

What about you? What would be your choice?