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Take me away,
Let me leave this all behind,
Feelings of inadequacy building up in my mind,
Keeping everyone at bay.

Let me explode,
Or implode into my brain
Either way all I’ll leave is an ugly, dirty stain.
Until even that erodes.

How many times,
How many ways can I say
It’s not you, it’s just me, leave me be, get away
Can’t you see I’m covered in grime?

Don’t take offense
Can’t you see I’m a mess?
Perfection is nothing I’ve even thought to profess,
The thoughts in my head don’t even make sense.



“As you know, I am a petal borne aloft on the autumn wind. It should say that in my file.” I like my alone time but get lonely frequently. I am dependable and trustworthy, a hard worker, and if I say I will do something, it will most likely be done. I am daily learning who I am and how I relate to people. I sing almost constantly. (Some would say I’m crazy or weird… I’m ok with that.) I am a singing, dancing photographer/writer/web-editor/proofreader who wants to change the world. I am on the cusp of a quarter-life crisis, navigating the ups and downs of becoming a grown-up. I find that as a twenty-nine year old woman, many of my friends seem to have the life I want: jobs in fields they love (with decent salaries), boyfriends, fiances, children, etc., while I seem somewhat stuck in a mediocre job with little time for a social life. I am a Christian trying to apply my very real faith to my equally real life. I have perfectionist tendencies which I blame on being an oldest child. I think that about covers it so... yeah.

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