Grew up loving the open sky,
and the smell of old books.
Stubborn.
I like seeing odd numbers, but writing even ones.
In search of cities with towers and abandoned intersections.
Hopeful Pessimist.
Often recalls those red tricycles and scraped-up knees.
Sidewalks never ended and suburbia was home.
Cynical.
Laugh like there's no tomorrow, and lose myself in the world.
Curious imagination, flying in the breeze.
Unsure.
Loves the sun and stars and watching time fly by.
Believes in dreams, not love.
Undefined.
I am a dreamer, hoper, with wishes on every star.
Enjoys being herself, and not caring.
Imperfect.
Loves words and music
I am who I know.
There are so many people we think we know, embedded in ourselves. We need to learn to embrace all of our own differences before we can claim to truly embrace the differences of others.
I'm too young for this crisis I've created in my mind,
But I'm too old to make excuses.
I'm too tall to fit in,
Too short to feel all-powerful.
I'm too scrutinized by those around me,
Not even good enough for myself.
I'm too insecure to accept my life,
Plans are always falling through.
I'm too headstrong to make many friends,
Far too weak to even ask for help.
I'm too stubborn to believe in religion,
Too dependent to stop looking.
Too much of everything,
Never enough of what I want to be.
