A Honest Poem

Facts about me include:

I've been told since I was young that I need to speak up, but maybe just no one was listening hard enough. I mumble too much everyone says, but maybe they just couldn't find the poetry among the words. Being misunderstood is a mystery, sometimes I do not even understand myself.

I am clumsy, I trip on my own confidence and stumble on my worth. I forget the simple things but not the important. I feel things deeply and sometimes all at once. I am quiet at times but my mind never is. Just because I'm not always speaking does not mean that I am not observing.

I have always struggled with having a voice, I  spill myself out the best through ink. I question everything I say, wait did that come across the wrong way? I unnecessarily apologize for everything. The sorry spills out of my mouth involuntarily, I guess it's self taught. I need to unlearn. I have stopped apologizing for my existence. I have learned to grow from everything and I am not done.

I wear my heart on my sleeve, but at first I am a closed book, it's hard to crack me open. I can be a mystery and maybe a tad complicated but isn't everyone.

I hate mirrors, they aid me in pointing out the flaws. I am not trying to be negative. I am just trying to be honest here. I have learned to see the good in myself, but there are days when I look it the mirror and I cannot find any. That is okay. It has taken me forever to learn that it is okay not to be okay. There will be the good days and the bad.

There is a constant process where I am trying to find myself. When I am already found. You cannot find what is not lost.

I search for the meaning in everything. I question everything I come across, and I miss the simplicity. But there is beauty in the details, in the complicated, in trying to figure things out. But there is also such a mystery in the simple, not having to dig deeper. I am both complicated and simple. I am layered, I feel deeply. I am simple in the way that I appreciate the simplicity in life.

I have learned the art in appreciating the deep parts of life but also the simple.

I am still learning the art of being myself. There are still walls that aren't painted, still chipped paint, some broken windows in this body. I have learned to grow and repair.

I have so much I wanted to say, but all of the words are stuck in my head.

I am much more of a listener then I am a speaker. I observe and absorb. I am more quiet then what might make you comfortable, but that's who I am. And I will no longer apologize for who I am.

I am who I am, take me as I am. I am a poem not everyone will understand. But I hope you can learn and grow.

I have a story that is still in the works. It's not close to over. And I have learned to stop trying to write my own story, I am not the author of this book. I don't get to hold this pen and if I do it will be the only be a scribble. But the author, He will write out my book in such a mysterious and wonderful way. So I give up the ink in my story.

So this is me, introducing me.

I am awkward. I am a listener, I appreciate hearing others stories. I am messy and clumsy. I am learning to be unapologetically me. I am a writer, learning to speak. I am a lover of words. I am a writer learning that I am not the author of this story. I wear my heart on my sleeve. I am a creative, I love art. I love the mystery and intricacy of nature. I love poetry and the release found there.

I am full of sorry but I am not an apology. I am a writer but I am not a metaphor. I make mistakes, but I'm not one. I am just me.

I am a me. A young woman still finding God in everything. Still seeking the mystery. Still growing, still forgiving myself. Still learning to surrender. Still learning it is okay to be me. So welcome.

Grow + Love,

A.S.