I Am Only Me

I am a writer.

If you really want to know me, read my writing. It's all here. Who I am. What I think and feel, love and hate.

There's only one thing missing and that is the rest of me.

My body, the way I look, the way I stumble from shyness, the fear in my eyes when I have to face real people.

I can talk to a room full of strangers, not easily, but I can pull that off.

But ask me to talk to one person, to a person whose opinion I care about, to someone whose feelings matter to me and I am twelve years old.

Red faced and shy, afraid I won't measure up. I lose part of myself and only a piece of me stands before you.

Pieces aren't enough for grown-ups, they want whole people, they want the writer and the person they imagine that writer to be.

But I am only me.