Strong As Glass, Weak Like Steel
Right now, I feel as delicate as spun glass, hardened and brilliant. Vulnerable and alone.
Mostly, I want to believe I’m pretty and worthwhile and positive. I do. But …laying myself to be so open and trusting…. Oh, it hurts. It shouldn’t. I don’t want it to.
I think of my ability to trust as a broken vase, glued together. Each time it is broken, it gets harder to repair. Eventually, I don’t suppose I’ll be able to. I hate being so fragile, so unlike the steely core of strength that I want to be. I want to live strong. I want to love…really…love. I’m working at it.
I think maybe my expectations about life are a little too grandiose. Maybe I should settle for anything I can get. I mean, look at me. I’m not the prettiest heifer in the herd. I believe I’m simply tired from being sick. I promised you a pic, though, and I delivered…