I am the child you see in the park,
Skinned knees, dirty hands, bruises, scrapes,
Tree climbing, rough-and-tumble, chasing, tripping,
Argumentative, petty, crafty in that way six-year-olds have,
I am the adventurous one,
With my battle-cry of “MUUUUUUUUM! HE DID IT AGAIIIIIN!”

I am the quiet girl,
Silent, observing, alone,
I am the one who blends into the crowds, afraid to stand out,
I am the ‘Just Another Girl’,
I am the one in the corner, absorbed in a book,
Watching the world go by with a detached resigned air.

I am the slacker,
I am part of the group,
Defined as “Her Friend”,
I am the support, the confidant, the trusted one,
I am the betrayer, the fickle one, the hypocrite,
I am one who is cast aside,
Sensible, but not enough,
I am the teenager trying to be what I shouldn’t.

I am the one found again,
I am the second-chance, don’t-blow-it-this-time, joker, jinxer,
Loved, whole, sometimes afraid but not ashamed,
I am the recluse, the attention-grabber,
Foul-mouthed, polite, cheeky, respectful,
I am the “I Still Need Help Here”,
Making ties, strengthening bonds, knowing when to let go,
I am the adult, finally learning what should already be known.

I still make mistakes.
I still get hurt.
I still wonder sometimes.

But I am happy with who I am.

I am me.