I simply am.
Imperfect.
Conflicted.
Struggling.
Competent.
There is nothing wrong with me. Just because I am not perfect.
I’m not a failure because I have failed.
And all of my successes? They do not make me fully successful.
I complain, but I’m very grateful.
I’m not difficult to understand. Though I often struggle to express, fully, my thoughts and emotions.
I am an open book. But every thing about me will never be written.
I have huge expectations. But I will let you down.
I am these things.
And many more.
Yet, not enough.
I simply, am, what I am.
