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What I am, and what I'm not

I'm never going to be That Girl.

Which girl?

Many girls. I'm never going to be any of them.

I'm never going to be someone whose entire life revolves around motherhood. I love my daughter, and I love being a mother, but I'm never going to be That Mom.

Nor am I ever going to be That Wife. Or any wife, for that matter. I have no inclination to get married, and I will not take my husband's last name if I do. I am no one's arm candy.

I'm never going to be That Cute Girl. Small, adorable, and loved by all. I'm large and surly. I don't know how to respond sometimes. My introvertedness shuts down conversations like a health inspector shuts down rat-infested restaurants.

I'm never going to be That Hot Chick. I haven't the faintest clue how to be sexy, and I'm not sure I'd be comfortable attracting that kind of attention. I don't actually like strangers looking at me. I'd rather be cute than hot, and I'm not any good at being cute.

I'm never going to be That Cool Girl either. I'm a mess. My calm face belies the turbulence that boils beneath, and though I may smile and nod at you for now, you can be assured that I will go home and postmortem our conversation with my best friend down to the minutest detail.

I'm not any of those Girls.

What I am:
contemplative
never quick to pick on sarcasm because 99% of the time I'm very serious and sincere
daydreamy
uncomfortable not in my own skin, but in the masks I have to wear
constantly searching for kindred spirits
lonely
distrustful
someone who internalizes everything and self-blames
someone who wants "to love, and to love, and to love, and to love"
more apt to wish good things for everyone else than for herself

I can never be That Girl.

I just... AM. I exist.