I am chaotic, yet at the same time deeply organised.
I know how to soar, but sometimes I fall — and it hurts.
There is an incurable romantic within me, but there is also a part of me that lives one moment at a time, and I am comfortable with that.
I can smile and cry at the same time.
I love without limits — although, until now, not necessarily myself — and that is why I sometimes suffer.
I cannot stay angry for long.
I always try to give one hundred per cent of myself, unfortunately more often to others than to myself… but I am learning to change that.
I am made of a million pieces, often contradictory ones.
For a long time, I tried to make them fit, to eliminate some of them, to be “either this or that.”
Today, I know that is not what this is about.
“To die in order to be born again” does not mean throwing away parts of yourself.
It means letting go only of what is no longer yours — or perhaps never was — and of what no longer serves you.
I cannot be placed inside a mould. I am made of all kinds of pieces. I am myself.
And I am learning to love myself exactly as I am.