I Am..

I am not a rough draft.

When I was a child, my parents didn’t look at me, sigh, and decide to redo me.

They didn’t have my brother because he knew he’d be

more popular, more athletic, and more funny than I was.

They didn’t have my sister because they knew she’d become

an awesome writer, a wonderful singer, and a sparkling wit.

I was not something they felt needed to be improved on.

I am not a rough draft.

I am not a guinea pig.

My parents didn’t use me to test out parenting techniques so they could

“get it right” with the next one.

They didn’t chart my reactions, my achievements, and failures, and

attempt to duplicate or improve the results with their next child.

They weren’t detached observers in my life and

they didn’t use me to create someone more successful.

I am not a guinea pig.

I am not a failure.

I’ve had my ups and downs.

My successes and my failures.

I have fallen.  I have stumbled.  I’ve thought I was finished.

I’ve kept going.

I am not a failure.

I am a work in progress.

For nine years, I’ve been a teacher.

I’ve written a novel.  One I love.

I’ve been on stage.  I’ve been the lead.

I wanted to move, and I’ve moved and moved.

I’m rough around the edges.

I’m unfinished.

I’m unpolished.

I’m growing.

I’m changing.

I am a work in progress.

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