I could say I'm five foot one,
or unable to rant without stumbling over my words.
I could say I'm a vegetarian or a social justice warrior or a feminist.
I could say I am not anything that would ever make it into a beauty magazine.
I could say I write because I'm unsure of my own voice.
I mix my morning coffee with three spoonfuls of doubt and always get stomach aches.
I could say I cry when a voice is raised at me or when I think about the future,
or when I think too much at all.
But I want to say that I'm fumbling through this obstacle called life,
called unsure-of-anything-but-the future-is-in-reach-and-I-can-taste-the-way-my-coffee-doesn't-taste-like-my-own-dissapointment-anymore.
and maybe I'm failing too.
But I am like an open window.
I will feel the wind wipping against me and stay open with perseverence.
I will look you in the eyes as if our souls are old friends.
I will say your name like a melody and show you we are all a little scared,
and maybe that's how we know we're alive.
When my heart is racing
at least I know it's working properly.
I could say I'm unsure of what the future holds for me,
but I want to say
I'm sure of myself.
This body is home.
I have never before been so sure of its structure.