For Who I Am

Alone in this world…. I am scared and sad and I have no where to go, where I am cared for.

Alone in this world… I wonder alone through the dark and cold world. I have no home to return to...at least not one where I belong.

I long to have someone hold me and keep me safe from harm. I yearn to feel a gentle touch. Reach out and assure me that it’s all right...

Be a friend and listen. Do not judge or criticize. Do not give me advice or cut me down and make me feel guilty. Do not discourage me. Love me for who I am and what I am. Accept me for me and not want me to change.

Make me feel better. Wipe away my tears. Look into my swollen eyes. Understand what I’m feeling and make that feeling go away. Fill the long empty silences.

No longer would I have to be alone. I want to fit in and I try so hard… but no matter how hard I try it doesn’t work. I act as I am and also as I think others want me to act and I still get it wrong. I want to be a good person but I need to be loved.

I wonder if there is anyone who could ever love me for me...who wouldn’t want me to change...who would tell me that I’m a good person and that I deserve to be loved.

Someone who would save me from drowning in this pool of loneliness and intolerance. Someone who would keep me away from self pity and heartache.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me, what makes it so hard for anyone to love me. Do I push them away when I desparately try to love them the way I know how? Or am I that terrifying and suck that much that they run when they see me appear?

Am I that stupid that I don’t know who I am? Or who I am suppose to be? I wish I could be in heaven with the one person I know loves me. He has to… because He is supposed to love everyone no matter how they are. No matter how many people they’ve hurt with good intentions and no matter what’s wrong with them. I know that I was put here for a purpose and that one day God will use me. Maybe I will be able to help someone.

Until then I will pray that someone will love me. Even if only for a minute. That they will really love me... not because they want something or because they feel bad for me or because they have to...

But because they really do love me and want me to be happy and they are proud of me for who I am, not who they think I could be. But for the truly wierd, silly, colorful, sinful person I am.

Not because I appear to be nice and good but because they know me and because they like the little girl that they know. But for know I will try to hold on... To keep my grip... To try to keep from slipping and losing my place...

Because I don’t want to start over, to pretend to be strong while I’m crying inside... To act happy when my soul withers away and to be a “good person” and to live each day to the fullest. But I know every day I am alone. Everyday that I sit alone, unaccepted for who I am, that every day a part of me dies.