I am not the amount of likes my selfies get. I am not the amount of heads that turn when I walk into a room. I am not the amount of makeup I wear. I am not the weight I gain or loose. I am not the brands I have. I am none of that.

But I'll tell you what I am...
I'm a thinker.
I'm a writer.
I'm a fighter.
I'm my faith.
I'm my laughter.
I'm a sister.
I'm a friend.
I'm shy.
I'm smart.

And I'm still learning that what matters is what's inside my heart.

It is a joy,
allow me to say,
to watch the sun as it goes down
and watch the clouds continuously circle around.
Stop and take a breather from your hectic life to appreciate the creation and its might.
Because even if you think you're big and tall, it reminds you of how small you really are.
Watch the trees as they blow with the strong wind and the leaves as they rattle and fall.
Take a second to realize you really do have it all.

When they asked me who I was I gave them a simple reply, but what I wanted to say was...
I'm a mess!
I never sleep.
I can't control what I eat.
I'm an emotional and nervous wreck.
But I can lie and say I'm trying my best. (I'm not)
I still have a long ways to go.
After all, I am a work in progress, you know?

Focus my mind.
Adjust my lens.
Allow me to see how amazing the world can be-
the green grass on the other side of where I find myself trapped.

Give me positivity.
I want to be optimistic!
And see the good in everything
Instead of continually wishing...
for something better or a different life.

Turn my night into day and the darkness into light. Change me just as you do with simply being you.

I have a secret,
One I like to keep.
A little secret about me.
I love poetry,
But few know how I have a love for words not just the ones I write but the ones that beautifully, artistically flow.
The ones that make me want to cry and make my jaw drop and remind me of how much I've lost.
Words that astound me because they sound as if they were my own, expressing exactly what I feel and yet written by someone completely unknown.
Poetry does that and also allows me to spill my heart out without a filter and express my very deepest thoughts.
I want to keep secret what I've discovered about myself.
Because I'm afraid if others knew the magic would be lost.

Who is now reading this?

May-be one is now reading this who knows some wrong-doing of my past life,
Or may-be a stranger is reading this who has secretly loved me,
Or may-be one who meets all my grand assumptions and egotisms with derision,
Or may-be one who is puzzled at me.

As if I were not puzzled at myself!
Or as if I never deride myself! (O conscience-struck! O self-convicted!)
Or as if I do not secretly love strangers! (O tenderly, a long time, and never avow it;)
Or as if I did not see, perfectly well, interior in myself, the stuff of wrong-doing,
Or as if it could cease transpiring from me until it must cease.