this skin

This skin I'm in has been disparaged long enough. 

The crap talk that has distracted me with cloudy glimpses of what was, a way to confirm what I've always known: that I'm not enough.

Lately though, that's changing. 

I am enough. I am who I am, complete with quirks and foibles, and fallible just like the next girl. 

I appreciate the gift that is this life as I witness an internal, 'this is your life' movie complete with flashbacks to my youth and what once was.

Maybe it's because A is at an age that I remember distinctly. It was the beginning of my troubled youth, myself at twelve distinct and sharp, I marvel sometimes that I turned out ok because the path I was on suggested anything but. That won't be A's memories, there's a different path for my girl, thank the powers that be.

The language I speak with myself, (have spoken with myself), found its roots long ago; embedding into the fragile soil of my heart, creating an outdated affair both cyclical and dependent.

Lately, I don't hear its tune. The sound rings tin, its ping sharp and acidic, a melody that no longer ignites or invokes.

I make no more excuses for myself, this is how I am. That's not to say that I'm not working towards a better me, in fact it feels like I'm working harder. 

There's clarity and compassion. I understand myself better and I'm comfortable enough to say, 'I'm better than that' to all that goes along with trying to make someone like/notice/befriend me. 

I am enough, especially for me.