I am more than that

I am more than that woman you see with the red hair. I am more than that woman you see with blue foggy eyes. I am more than that lady with the glasses.  I have a great depth within me. So many people really don't get to see that in me. I am so many layers. I have even been seen as a weirdo because I am so many intricate woven strands.

I have no expectations of people anymore.  I have lost the will to want to even attempt to make friends past the ones I hold quite dear. None enter here. As for those who thought they knew me, how many layers did you dig into before you saw enough to label me something mundane? Some kind of name that fits your bill you like to call all women who don't conform to your standards.

I just am who I am. I never claimed to be a superstar. Nor did I claim to be completely heartless. Yet I was called many names that stated such nastiness.

Here, just, to my expansion of emotions and intelligence I have laid out my life for all to see, if they wanted to learn about me. For by any standards I realize I don't open up very well. Would you open up after the mistrust of many man and woman? Certainly you would tread lightly around all. And yet for some I completely bared every fiber of my life, and that was taken and thrashed.

Phenomenal how people can be just so cruel to serve their own purpose. I know I have done it before. And I was actually proud of that moment. Then the waves of sickness hit me. I gathered I would never be allowed to do that ever again.

Still in the midst of all my battles of good and bad I still am walking out. The dust clings to my clothes but I am capable of surpassing the obvious errors. I have even dug myself out of several pits of mud just to prove that no one knocks me down, nor kills me without some part of me fighting for my life.

I am of grit. The women in my family know how to hold together, pulling themselves back together after the deadliest fights. I have seen them. So for me, sure this is the current heart ache but I know that I am capable of tackling the fight. But I am not fighting for you anymore. I am fighting to be me and no man can ever break me like you have.

So I give thanks for the long, hard lessons you gave. Even the ones where I allowed stuff to slide. And even when you said I had the best lies of all. Harsh. Then I realized that is a compliment coming from the biggest liar I know, next to my father. The traits are the same. Funny how I never thought so before.

So go ahead put that label of Crazy Mary and her Mary Moments down on paper. Even explore the facts of how I got to that point and realize that every woman, if placed in my position, would be the same. But soon you will see.

All I can say I am not to blame for this one. So what if she reads my poems. There is no known name  here. And I only said yours, Chad besides my own. And this is a public forum. See it as whatever you want. Use me as the excuse for a while because I know that will justify things for you, but soon other stuff will happen and I cannot be that blame.

By far I am not perfect. Oh will my glasses, my hearing aid and with my autoimmune disease, far from the perfect line. Yet I don't ever want to be perfect right now, for I am still learning about what is necessary to grow. When I get to Paradise, I will be slowly getting to perfect state. Now that I look forward to and even maybe then I will see you with your new love and children. Perhaps?

I am more than that woman who cried dearly for your kind words. I am more than that woman who helped you get free. I am more than that woman who you called names. I am more than that woman who was heartbroken. I am me. I may appear fragile and downtrodden but I soar more than you know.

So go ahead and lay that blame you want, at my doorstep. Say those titles I am to you and your new flames. Go ahead. But watch me kick it all out the way and keep on moving. Go ahead, I triple dare you to be brave enough.

Alas I just laugh.