She was small. So very small.
A girl afraid of being too large,
crushed by the weight of the world on her shoulders.
She was complicated. Oh so complicated.
Both happy and sad and trying to figure out why,
in love with the feelings that come with being alive.
She was nervous. Horribly, horribly nervous.
The crushing anxiety often too much to bear,
causing her to curl up into a ball of fear, sometimes too scared to breathe.
She was a lover. One of life’s many lovers.
Deeply fascinated by every human heart,
a bookworm because she loved the way words resonated with her soul.
She was small. So very, very small.
...
But through writing she could make herself LARGE.