The Three Parts of Me

                                                   I am... Elizabeth /[əˈlizəbəTH / n.

                                            A female with sky blue eyes, full of the

                                    inventive aspirations of a seventeen-year old; father-

                                less, believing that after each mystic dream we share will

                               be reunited again; a twin, forced to share my grievances with

                              one who feels the same yet never delivers his feelings to me,

                            who remains enclosed yet close, always my other half; a scholar,

                          searching to learn all that I can about my passions, my future, and

                         my dreams; a hypocrite, yet never shy to admit it, enjoying the faults

                        I flaunt and how they destroy-or rebuild-me. Deep within, I surge with

                       judgement, criticism, and love; to those who don’t know me, you know

                     none of these; to those who love me, you know all; the three float through

                     my mind, a constant reminder of what is wrong with us; should we not be

                       kind, loving, and free? Yet I see those who aren’t and frown at them; I,

                   who have                       been given life, have never                said I hated it.

                Their mouths                     run like faucets, exclaim                          -ing what-

   ever      they wish at the sake of a whim; I am grateful for all that is given to me; I take   

  for           granted nothing, even the decrepit house in which I live. But I am also hope,     forgiv-

 ing, and   reality; I am all that I wish to be, looking forward to every chance I am given    to define

  myself;   I accept what others are, not what I want them to be; I am realistic about my goals and

     acknowledge them; I will chase even the impossible though, regardless of those who try to

       restrain me. I am grateful for my life and happy for all God has given me; yet I am never

      satisfied knowing there is more I can do. I am the wayward thoughts that escape my dreams

       when I wake, imagining the Could, Will, and Should Have Been’s of my life; I am an un-

       stoppable force of power and conviction, the calmness within the eye of a tornado; I am the

              spark of a single ember, the ignition of a flame among coals; I am the execution

               of an idea never contemplated but simply performed; I am a mask, burying my

                          potential beneath the                               gentle lilt of a friendly voice.

                          At a time, I was                                              placid, apathetic, and

                            indifferent. I know not                            what happened to that

                              girl who the teachers gave no mention; to that stranger without

                                   a voice; she thought she was afraid, alone, and weak; if

                                     only someone had told her that her weaknesses could

                                     be her strengths, that she was never alone, that there

                                        was nothing to fear; if only I could have told her

                                             how resilient she can be; she does not have

                                                  to be speechless any longer. She does

                                                          not have to be second-best;

                                                               flaccid; or unnoticed;

If only I had opened my eyes and lips and seen my potential, spoken my opinions, and told all that

I am everything I want to be.

I am fearless.