She was confident. She had guts. She was creative. She was unafraid. She laughed though she’d cry. She took everything and made it hers. She was free.
But she was reckless. She was spontaneous. She was irresponsible. She was impatient. She was too careful. She was too idealistic. She was unattached to reality. She floated.
She thought it was all wrong. She thought it wasn’t enough. She thought there was something wrong with her. She thought she had to stop.
Now she is curled up. She is scared. She is afraid to hurt. She is afraid to get life wrong again. She pretends. She has to walk to survive. She can not float, her feet are heavy.
She wants to fly. She wants to be free.
She was me. But I am not her.
