Raw

It isn't so often that I am real and transparent. This truth is rather ironic given that I push everyone else to be completely real with me, yet in reality, I create versions of myself to suit any given situation. I become who I think I should be in order to please whomever I may be around or to get attention or to gain acceptance. No wonder guys think I'm a silly little girl whom they can toss to the side when they're done without a care in the world. Upon first impression, to someone with little insight and understanding, I portray myself that way-a silly, pretty little play thing who's bubbly and light hearted. I get paid to be that girl too. I sell that character when I bartend. People love to talk to that girl who's feisty and sassy, a bit flirty, and seemingly quite flighty. She's not real though. I made her up. Essentially she's an alter-ego.

The real me is jaded and cynical, rather harsh, very no nonsense, kind of a bitch really, hardened to the world around me, deep, pensive, complicated, and a terrible mess. I drink. I smoke cloves and cigars on occasion. I have horrible language. I have most certainly messed around with guys. I do not come in a dainty, pretty package with some pristine tale to tell. My life is not perfect by any means. I have made many mistakes and will continue to make more. I do not regret any of these aberrations. I accept them for what they are. I know that they do not define WHO I am, but they simply are things I've done.

I look at my love of fashion, and when I seek a deeper meaning behind that affinity, I wonder if perhaps it is because I can use it to mask who I am, or I can dress up who I am and play a part. Perhaps it isn't simply a love and appreciation for the art of design. Perhaps it is just another veil to hide behind.

I used to not be this person. I knew who I was, what I believed, and what I stood for. I had no misgivings about my thoughts and ideas. I accepted myself, a beautiful mess, wholly instead of piece meal as I do now. As it stands, I'd like to compartmentalize some of me so no one knows the "bad" things, but that's truly a travesty to with hold from humanity a raw truth that could potentially relate to someone else and bring light and hope to a darkened world.

My life, though not perfect, has not been terribly arduous. The things I have gone through pale in comparison to many people in this world. However, they have affected me, and surely there are others like myself who have the same questions and sentiments and have had similar life experiences. I was told I need to tell my story. In order to do so, I will have to get dirty and simply hope for a forgiving audience.