I am a diehard romantic.
I want to give you candles on the beach and make your eyes spark.
I am silly.
I dance all the way to the bathroom to pee.  With mitts on my feet, not socks.
I am strong.
I like to sweat while I work.  It makes me feel accomplished.
I am in love.
I want to tell the world just how very much.  And to whisper it in your ear.

I am simple.
I think perfection is a slow warm night where I can just be content.
I am scared.
I think the world’s a big place sometimes.  Much too large for just me.
I am fragile.
I don’t want anyone to know.  Or those that know to shatter me.

I am angry.
I know the cold line of rage as an indifferent warmth in the pit of my stomach.
I am jealous.
I fear losing that which is most precious because I’m not as good.
I am stubborn.
I have enough willpower to outlast you on spite alone.

I am young.
I live sweet and easy, free in the knowledge of my abilities.
I am proud.
I have what I have made for myself, and while not perfect, it is mine.
I am true.
I speak my truth, though it may change.  Change is necessary.
I am redefined.