There's that self who fell in love with the right man at the wrong time. A man so perfect for her and she being so perfect for him that it is hard for them to stay apart. And they should. But they can't. They try, though. And fail. He is the reason she wanted to change. He inspired her long before their love was ignited. And whenever he gets in touch after months of silence, she takes him back with open arms. Because he is the only person in the entire world, who has ever seen her bare. Without any masks at all. Without pretending to be someone she is not. He takes her with all her imperfections, with her quirks and eccentricities. And she sees him as the person he is. She saw straight through his walls and unmasked him. Now they share a bond so wrong, yet so right. And they will never be together. They will never live their love. It will all stay a game and a fantasy between two lost souls who turned out to be soul mates. Which is quite sad and weirdly romantic at the same time.

The self who feels guilty to live her own life without taking care of her ill mother. She will never stop worrying about it but is not strong enough to see how her mother is wilting away. She feels guilty, and that guilt will never let up. Her family will keep telling her that she neglects her mom, but they will not see the tears she cries every time she visits and every time they speak on the phone. They will never care about the child who cared for her mother at a too early age and is now too broken to go on. They only see the surface. And they will never dig deeper. She should visit her mom...

The self who still saves herself into a world of music, just to flee reality. She listens to the music, voices, lyrics, tunes, and feels. She feels all the things she tries not to feel all day long. She feels all the things she tries to suppress when people are watching. A safe haven. Something that will never push her away or disappoint her. Something she will never disappoint either. Music: something one can not touch, but it touches her deeply all the time.The self who is self-confident one moment and crippled with doubt the next. She felt beautiful for once. She wore a dress and nice shoes, her hair was straightened, and a little make-up was dusted on her face. One phone call later from her grandma and she felt ridiculous. Fat and ugly. She put her usual black jeans back on and a shirt. Her hair was pulled up in a messy bun, and she tried to avoid every mirror in the house. Who could find her attractive anyway? With her fat thighs and stretc marks on her too large stomach. The double chin and too much hair everywhere. If she could hide, she would. She doesn't want to be seen if people don't like what they see. She rarely acknowledges that she is a beautiful woman. But then there are men who say that she's attractive and sensual. And they can't all be wrong?! Apparently it is in her eyes. In her way with words. In her open mind. In her humor. She can't look at herself with the eyes of a stranger. She knows her weaknesses too well. Her strengths too.

The self who has an insane phobia of birds yet sits close to the window to watch the crows dance in the sky. Afraid of flying she still wishes she could be free as those birds. The smaller the bird, the bigger the fear. Oh but it's only a small bird, people will say. It doesn't matter to her. She still panics when one of those feathered creatures comes too close to her.

The self who never gets enough affection. Feels alone and empty. But isn't. She never is. It is just a feeling that is inside and overwhelms her from time to time. She needs people around her who believe in her because she can't do it on her own. Having been told her whole life that she isn't worth a thing and that she can't do anything, will never succeed in life, those are things that are ingrained in her brain. Sometimes she sees them for the bullshit they are. Sometimes she doesn't. And she drowns. Because she can't swim that well.

The self who is afraid to share things of herself because it makes her vulnerable. At the same time, she likes to share those personal things just to let them out. If they are written down and sent out into the world, they stop bothering her as much. She doesn't want to be pitied, but if there are people who can relate to her words, her world, then she feels a little better inside. She is not alone.The self who still wishes that her childhood and youth would have been normal. At the same time, she knows that if she hadn't lived through all the drama, the ups and downs, the hate and the abuse, the absence of love; she wouldn't be able to feel all the things she is feeling now. And as much as she fights it, she likes to feel. Not to hurt, but to feel. She hurt a lot when she was young. Self-inflicted and not. Consensual and not. She tried to numb all those feelings. And for a long time they were stored inside, eating her up. When she was almost gone, vanished, she discovered something she had forgotten. Forgotten hope. It helped. He helped.

The self who never tires to preach that she doesn't regret anything. Every choice she ever made was the right one at the moment, and it was a step forward on her journey. It brought her to this moment in time. And whether she is suffering heartbreak or complete love and serenity, she is exactly where she should be. And whether a choice turned out to be the worst she ever made, it still was the right one at that moment in time. Live and learn and go on.The self who thinks in music and lyrics. She knows so much about music and movies that she feels embarrassed at times and pretends not to know things. Then she sits in her room. The spare room of the house. She sees that huge collection of CDs. All hers. A couple of vinyl albums, very selected few. And the mass of books. She earned her knowledge. She spent many moments of her life soaking up every detail. And she is not done yet. She is still hungry for more.

The self who is proud of her self and her achievements. Without her perseverance and her inner strength, she wouldn't be here. And right now, even if not everything is always okay, even if her life is not the way others would live it and even if her oddities are hard to understand for other people, she is happy. Not always serene, but she is working on it. Some days are easier than others. Some days she is more at peace with her self than others.