I say age comes with confidence. My heart aches for my highschool soul. It was damaged, wilted, broken, and scarred. Wrecked with emotion, bad guys, and low self-esteem, I allowed myself to swim in the gutter. Now at 21, I take my flaws one by one, not by the pinch of my finger, but as a handful. I bare no shame that yes, my heart is painfully sensitive, my demeanor can turn sour, and that room is persistently decorated in a large, beautiful mess.
Flawful.
I dream big because I want it all, but give me a map and I'm dashed away in circles. Whirlpools.. drowning. I have to plan slow, need to plan smart. After all, God has the final say so.
Flawful
I am hasty to trust, but I close the door behind me when I feel betrayed, Grudges are not in my cup of tea, however no one ever wants to reminisce on the bitter aftertaste. Yes, people deserve second chances, yet some healed scars can never vanish. I block, I ignore, I move on... quickly.
Flawful.
Leave it me to obsess over the latest workouts, hair, and makeup. Looking my best is apart of my self-test but I lose control.
Despite all of my blemishes, makeup will never cover up who I am as a woman. I am royalty in the eyes of Jesus. He sees something in me that no one else can. Don't mind me. My flaws are apart of the personal testimony.
"I woke up like this."-Beyonce
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