I despise this, this need so great.
I would love to think that I am, that I can, that I will and that I can stand on my own, turn away and never look back.
But alone in my thoughts, when robbed of the majesty of light, when feeble chatters and needless want grow mighty and consuming, I still always find myself crumbling, so insecure and filled with doubt.
Oh, but where I am weak there mirrors your strength. And when I cry, there I realize I am most blessed that I feel, that I hurt and that I bleed.
I am a human being, made of flesh and blood. I am not stone. I am a woman. (And perhaps the insecurity and state of being so emotionally needy all the time springs from the cold pit of men's insensitivity.)
----
Not of my flesh,
nor bone of my bone,
but still miraculously my own.
Never forget for a single
minute, you didn't grow
under my heart - but in it.
~@~
Fleur Heylinger
