I'd Realized then, that I'd Never Known How to Love Because I'd Never Truly Loved Myself.
Constant Judgements and Labels Placed Upon the Name MY Mother Gave Me.
The Same Name She Says in Love and When She Does, her Honesty, there in, Reassures Me of My
Beauty: I Didn't Know it Then because I Gave My Soul To Your Misuse. I
Believed You Because in My Eyes, You Were Perfect....
It Was Only When I Stood in Front of a Mirror and After Endlessly Pointing out, then Magnifying, Every Visible Quirk, that I'd Allowed Myself to Embrace the Magnitude of My Beauty.
I Found Pleasure at the Sight of Any Living Thing Which was Slightly OFF. Different.
I'd Amuse Myself for Hours in Front of That Mirror Praising My, Now Apparent, Odd Sense of Fashion.
I Wanted To Be Accepted for Being Able to Express Myself. Uniquely. And yet, it Would Still Hurt My Pride at Night When I'd Realize, "I'M Trying too Hard" , to NO Avail.
Years I've Been Given to Poise Myself Physically as well as Intellectually.
I'll Always Feel Somewhat Awkward but NEVER Inadequate.
I Learned of My Humility Because I Know that Perfection is Nothing but a Myth.
My Mind, in All it's Chaos, is Symbolic of Beauty because the Thoughts I
Own, are MINE. The Emotions I Share, However Vulgar or Pure, are
Beautiful because They are Sincere and They are Mine.
And Today, When I Love, Know that it is Authentic because Through All the Shxt, I've Learned How to Love with Intense Passion, if Not For, then as a Result Of Every Quirk.
My God Creates Art. He did when He Made Me.- [B.]
