Every year, around autumn I find my thoughts tend to meander; instead of my usual brisk walk, I walk a little slowly. As the leaves change their color, and the air gets chilly I long for a cup of coffee and a book. But sadly my mind won’t leave me, I wonder about the year gone by, about changes and constants. About what is important to me and what it means to be me.
It changes, this idea I have in my mind of who I am. I am strong and confident and scared and a sham. I am an extrovert and an introvert, trusting and careful, kind and giving and mean and spiteful. But no matter what I am that day, I have this deep sense in my soul that I am all I have. This is not to say, I don’t have a great boyfriend, great friends and relatives. I am blessed that so many people care for me. But I have me, and to me i am perfect. I do wrong things, I see that; I will change and will have to, I know that, but no matter what- I am my home, I am my savior, I am my critic and my devotee.
