I used to fancy myself a writer, you know someone who was a really deep thinker. A person who with a few choice words could turn your world view on its head and have you questioning all that you believe.  These days I know that I am neither a deep thinker nor a world changer. I am simple...me; angry, beautiful, happy, grief stricken, loving, and full of despair all in the same instant. ..

 I can change my future but I can't forget my past. I reach inside each day to find strength to do what most people don't even think about.  The simple things in life are rarely simple for me. Not because I have some disability or because I am so inept at simplicity more because I need the drama.  I'm not sure why but of course I have thoughts.  Drama was my coping technique for living with Mr. wonderful, ms beautiful/smart/skinny, and Mr. music, when I was ms battered and scarred.  I needed something to make me stand out.  Drama.  A new crisis everyday.  Someone to save me.  I cried, I screamed, I ranted.  I picked a good fight and I rarely got beat. I didn't want to blend in. I wanted to stand out.  I wanted to be the center of attention. I demanded it.  I alienated people both the ones I loved and those that I didn't even know.  I would talk to anyone naive or caring enough to listen.  My story was always sad. I was a victim in everything. 

And I had been a victim once.  One time someone ripped me down and beat me up - I was six.  It has torn through me like a tornado everyday since.  Shame, guilt, anger and mistrust left me wandering like a starving puppy looking for his mom.

Why did I get off the porch?  I knew better! My parents told me never go without them, never talk to strangers?  But I did! It was one of many poor choices in my life.  But the pain all traces back to this moment.  This little girl on the side of her house not understanding what was happening, scared by her father's wrath, and stunned by her mother's disregard.

That is who I have been up to today…can tomorrow be anymore?