Each night I look at the bright sky and think to myself: how nice would it be if I could just fly away?

Without fear, and without looking back.

And to leave everything behind. Without fear and shame.

To let to go of things tethering me--feelings I want to hide and thoughts I'd rather bury at the deepest recesses of my mind.

Thoughts so cluttered even I would drown in them: words, images, memories, and feelings.

I would rather escape them.

But all these are part of me; escape is futile.

I could embrace them.

I am not perfect, and I should accept that imperfection is part of me.

I should accept that chaos is not always bad.

I should accept that there is beauty in chaos.

I am chaotic.

I am beautiful.