And yet we are our masters of this world. We reap our havoc tender our mercies. Creators of our truth and our destinies. He who pulls the strings rules his world is not hidden or fabled in the pages of the greatest book ever written. We write the stories turn the pages with strength and courage or in falsehood and blame.
Physical perfection is not blessed. Differences and challenges are markers in time telling our battles. How hard we fought. Our victories and our losses. In the eye of the beholder we are judged and valued. In love we are validated. In ourselves we are truth. Love. Believe. Have faith in the wonderment of oneself.
I define my beauty. I am the only person who can give up. I choose to cry. I mourn my losses my failures. Yes we must empathize and feel and understand the suffering and joys of another. This makes us human and kind. We must not carry their burdens as our own.
Forgiveness brings upon openness. I am not my mistakes. I am learned from the choices and decisions I have made. We are the hardest on ourselves. Self-loathing makes us victims mirroring to others this is who I am. Shatter your illusion of yourself and defend the very best of you.
Stand naked in front of the mirror and proclaim. I am beautiful. I am kind and I am honest. I am sweet. I am funny. Tell your story. Our talents our abilities are gifts from the soul. The actor the singer the athlete are labels. Our character how we treat ourselves and live our lives define us. Who are we really inside?
The wrapper tells the world who they think we are. Shiny or dull. Brown black white red or yellow. Loud or quiet. Tiny big curvy thin. Our flavor comes from within. We can alter the wrapper. Bend shape mold and accessorize morphing a new outer me. Still I am strong beautiful sweet and kind. My wrapper does not tell my story.