As I am

Bullish, you see needy and loud and silly.  I see courage, strength a survivor.  Shielded by the banalities of everyday a struggle to simply be.  A façade really showing the barest of surface reality oppressed in lurking darkness.  Shadows breeds anxiety and fear.   Sanity tethered tenuously, the merest wisp of wind challenging its frailty.

She shares what she must.  Believing this laughter her smile shines bright to elicit a fragile moment of joy to behold.  An offering, weightless moments light in mind and soul.  She has battled.  Her stories un-telling wanting not your pity nor your judgement.  Her wounds borne deep unseen through your eyes tragically imprinted, a crude symbol.  They are hers alone.  She holds captive tears unshed her grief private.

Let her dance.  Her mundane is her stage her voice.  With loyalty she renews a trust broken.  In love she feels worth.  Her demons linger as unfitting jigsaw pieces, she clings in worry.  Let her be all she pretends to be.  Hold her hand.  Let her seek refuge in simplicity.  Her days a journey lived in hope.

Judge not her story or her actions with only whispers of her truth.  Through acceptance she takes flight.  Let her soar.  Enjoy all that she offers to you as she calls you friend.