I am not you or your closedminded ideas. I am who I am, accept me and do not fear me. I do what I want and what I need, I accept no help and no apologies. Proud little bitch. You're a damned proud little bitch. Pride is me and I am pride. Envy devours me. I'm imperfect and in my imperfection I am beautiful--can't you see? Will you always turn me aside with unbelieving smiles and a fluttering fingered hand, your hair glittering in the late morning sun? Will you ever turn and look me in the eyes and think I'm more than who I am? And so I wait for someone who can come and touch me and Understand. Because now there is none. And I want to sink into the thick blue crayon line of Buckley Salmon's drawing of the horizon and go to sleep and never come out again. Comfort is being alone. I'm so messed up.