I am courageous.
In my mind, I am a super hero. When I become fearful, I fall to earth.
A human. Being. But am I?
I am flawed.
In my body. In my way of thinking. I wear my flaws like designer jewels.
In my mind, I waltz with confidence.
But in my body, I drag and limp to the invisible finish line.
I am tired.
Of thinking of cool, innovative ideas.
Of competing. With others. With myself.
So I shuffle with the masses and berate myself, which does not add fuel to the super human being lost inside. Will she ever find her way out?
I am rebellious.
But chose the most obvious path. Rebel without a worthy cause?
Is that even a rebel?
Is this a metaphor?
Why can’t I just cheer choosing and taking action instead of face plant in my phone, not facing reality. Planting more seeds of worry.
I am unoriginal.
As evidenced by this boring choice of starting with I am.
So much for subtlety.
I am. Why oh why can’t that be enough?