I’ve always had grandiose ideas of what my life should be.

How I would create the perfect love story.

Embody the image of beauty and sensuality.

Provoke thoughts and ideas that would start movements.

Have a career that was well off and sought after.

And have a home that sits on the edge of a beach somewhere warm and inviting.

In reality.

Many of my loves have slipped through my fingers, one of them ended tragically.

I have struggled with my appearance my whole life.

My mind had led me to isolation so deep at one point I thought the world was better without me.

My successes were short lived and often ended in failure.

But one I am grateful for, though it doesn’t sit on a beach- I have a loving home.

With small feet that toddle on the carpets

And heads that sleep in small beds.

It’s just us three.

But its more profound to me than any dream I ever had.