It’s taken years and a lot of crap for me to understand;

I am deep, serious, complicated and messy.

I am professional, focused, and driven.

My ability to persevere sometimes doesn’t know when to quit.

Sometimes I can be a bitch and sarcastic as hell.

I can swear like a trucker.

And;

If it’s political then I’m often “incorrect,” sometimes on principle.

I’ve been called abrasive and brilliant.

I hate change because most of my life it equated loss.

I don’t usually act my age but part of me is wise beyond my years.

I like to be right but I’m a graceful loser.

I think empty beauty is ugly.

My respect is reserved for the truth.

But also;

I can love like no other.

I am moved, sometimes to tears, by simple things.

I’m obsessed with equality and continually overwhelmed by the barriers blocking it.

The phrase, “socially acceptable,” makes me cringe.

I care too much, often about the wrong things or wrong people.

I sometimes laugh too hard and too loud at the silliest of things.

And;

I usually put everyone before myself.

I have no patience for fluff but endless time for meaning.

My insides don’t match my put-together outsides.

And;

I am consistently inconsistent.

I crave routine but fail miserably at creating and living by it.

I am a perpetual student yet feel a deep sadness that I won’t have enough time in my life to learn more.

Tech fascinates and inspires me but also infuriates me in the ways it is abused.

I love spring, autumn, and winter but hate the summer.

I let outside people and events affect me too much.

Then;

Once in awhile, the surface cracks and all the pain and trauma comes pouring out like a lava flow. And at those times I’m ugly, raw, and too real for most people to handle.

But;

Above all else, at last, after all this time, I’m me, just me. And that’s okay, it’s better than okay.