What sort of person would I be, if my life had been different--if I had been held with cautious and gentle hands?
I was sensitive, brimming.
Delicacy untended hardens over time into thick heavy walls.
Every day is a choice, every word we must own, every action our responsibility. A butterfly stretching its wings may change the world--what choices, made by me and others, have brought me here?
Would I be softer if I hadn’t slept on blankets on floors, if I hadn’t had so many hurts to look to before my own, if I were taught that it was not weakness to show fear and hurt?
An infinite day-by-day.
Perhaps I might have been different, but I am who I am. I fought hard. I am proud of my lion’s heart and my castle walls and every one of my strange habits.
I am a girl of silk and broken glass. I am lace and nettles. I tend to my own internal garden, and it grows bright and strong behind the tall gate.
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