I am a living, breathing paradox.


I am two opposing forces, forever fighting against one other.

I feel trapped between the good and bad of all my character traits. And every day is a new battle to see which one will win. I am forever fighting for clarity, forever trying to let the better part of me win. I hardly ever succeed.

I relish in the fact that I am different, but I also resent that. My deep, authentic empathy and compassion drive me crazy, but it is also my greatest gift. It is both a blessing and a curse to feel everything so deeply. I love it, but I also hate it.

I am painfully introverted, but I cannot survive without the people I love. I am brave amidst the chaos, but I break when I finally surrender into solitude. I have a dark side, but not without understanding there will always be light. I know I am loved, yet I cannot shake this perpetual feeling of loneliness.

I am calm and composed on the outside, but my head is a jumbled, chaotic mess. There is a crazy storm forever brewing beneath the surface, and the levelheaded person you see is merely another contradiction. It is simply the chaos hiding in plain sight.

I am forever at odds with the world, yet I am classified as a human being. I read people like a book, yet I am unable to understand how I fit into the narrative. I can see the bigger picture, so clearly, but I sometimes get lost in the rabbit hole of details. I am forever searching for ways to connect the dots, but what I find is anything but dots. The one is nothing like the other.

I am gentle and compassionate by nature, but I am still learning to be kinder to myself. I am sensible, but I have ridiculous and unreasonable expectations of myself. I understand the intricacies and complexities of emotions so well, yet I am unable to articulate my own. I know why others are hurting, even if they don’t. I am forever hurting, and all I need is absolution.

I am the best – and the worst – of both worlds.

I am a serial procrastinator.


Mostly because I fear the reality of my visions will not be as good as the vision itself.

I am a perfectionist, and more often than not, I am not satisfied with substandard results. Especially, if those substandard results are an extension of who I am. It is a good way of approaching life (I think), but it sometimes cripples me to take action on things I truly believe in. My fear often stops me from doing any work at all, no matter how convinced I am that whatever I imagine is a good idea.

Over the years I have learned that sometimes good enough, really is good enough. At least, I believe it sometimes. It is hardly as simple as that, because even after tons of persuasion the harsh self-critic is always lurking around the corner. It is always waiting to emerge from the darkness that is my self-doubt. It is forever telling me that I will fail; reminding me that there will never be enough time to nurture the skills I need.

I am the ideal idealist, put plainly. I have big dreams and bold visions. But, I am also incredibly tenacious and I will not rest until I am done. The truth is, that longing feeling to get my work out there never goes away until I’ve actually done it. I am putting myself and my work out there, because the anxiety I feel over unfulfilled dreams and missed opportunities is worse than the crippling fear to try.