truth is

I make mistakes. I have flaws. My being is comprised of imperfections. They are buried deep within me. I am insecure, and complex, and fragile, and sensitive. I desperately hope that no one can tell. Some mornings I am self conscious and look at my body with disapproval and disdain. I hide my gap toothed smile. I cross my arms so you can not see the way I have chewed my nails almost to the bone. I am anxious. I spend lots of time in the darkness and lurking in my own shadows. I am… afraid. On occasion, I am not brave. I do not possess the strength you assume. I sometimes say the wrong things. I avoid sharing the concealed parts of me. I cry…a lot. I won’t admit it, but some nights I just want to fall in love. I am confused, and frustrated, and lost and discouraged. I am often worried about the future and sometimes resentful of the past. I am abstract. I am intense. I am depthless; yet shallow. I am courageous; yet fearful. I am loud; yet unheard. I am beautiful; yet offensive. I am gathered; but in shambles. I am chaos. I am order. I am all of these things and none. I am a contradiction. I am a woman. I am only human. I am me and my beauty lies in the simplicity of my complexity. (www.themoxiemodus.com)