There’s this fantasy that I carry with me. It’s warm, magnetic, and inviting. In it, I step out of my comfort zone the way I tread the sidewalk: confident and not second-guessing a thing.
But if this day ever comes, I’m doubtful that it will still feel like enough. Not in the way it does in my daydreams. I want something that truly nourishes me. Something that erases my flaws and keeps me from flinching at my own reflection.
The trouble is, this version of me only exists in my head.
I’d like to think I’m laid-back, but in reality I manage my emotions like a drill sergeant, especially when it comes to my anxiety. I am careful to the point of obsession. I’m particular — and like to know everything in advance. I’ve wasted years trying on which personality fits me best. I am leery of loving myself, because what if she doesn’t love me back?
Reality is not kind. It critiques me. It rationalizes with me like the devil on my left shoulder. It evaluates me by how quickly my metabolism works after I give in and have a snack. It betrays me. And I am afraid it will shatter my fantasy.
And I don’t know if I can handle the truth right now.
I don’t mean to sound dramatic. I am just a bit apprehensive. Like a jittery emoji. I am constantly on edge and can’t find it in me to trust what others say.
I am scared of what I truly am. That no one will ever be fond of my soft spots. That I’ll always be an unfinished draft.
But maybe being unfinished is its own kind of wholeness. Maybe not having it all figured out is simply another model of completeness.
Maybe someday someone will love me not in spite of my rough edges, but because of them.
Maybe who I am will change with the seasons. Maybe each day will be the start of a new chapter.
Hey Kaleigh! 
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