I am my flaws.

I am loud.

My laugh can be heard from rooms away. I try to raise my voice so someone can overhear my conversations. I try to make myself present in a room just from the tone of my voice. I want to be heard, not just seen. I do not know quite the right times to close my mouth. I notice when too late, and the damage is already done.

I am sensitive.

I do not come off that way. But I bite my tongue when I know I've done wrong. I feel my chest burn and squeeze when scolded. I feel my eyes burn as the salt begins to dry. My tears fill mason jars sealed until I can carefully open them one by one to someone. I pour them out alone sometimes onto my pillowcase.

I am passionate.

I stand for myself, my beliefs, my country, and morals. I stay grounded in what I believe because I know in my heart that what I fight for is right. People say it is too much, but I say it is not enough. There is no change without a fight, and I want to push myself until I can no longer be pushed.

I am indecisive.

I cannot make decisions on where to go eat or what movie to see. I hate to see my choices affect the ones around me negatively. I want to make sure every option has been looked at. I want to make sure I know as much information as possible. I waste precious time over worthless decisions.

I am stubborn.

Once I have made up my mind, there is no going back. I stick to what I want, and I stop at nothing to get it. I do not change my mind quickly, and I hold grudges for years. I lose friends from my grit. I lose trust and faith. I find it easy to get caught up in the selfish act of not losing touch with myself. I do not stray too far from what is familiar.

I am guarded.

I keep a lock and chain around my mind and my heart. I do not let many see the parts of me even I sometimes forget about. I am afraid to let others see the side of my face that does not smile, that does not laugh, and that does not joke. I am protecting myself from any sort of pain by guarding myself with more pain.

I am me.

I am loud, sensitive, passionate, stubborn, and guarded. I am everything that makes me completely and wholly imperfect. And that is OK. All of these things that make me the person I am are parts of myself I find I keep coming back to when asked to describe myself. At first, I was ashamed, but now I stand taller.

My flaws are my strengths. They allow me to be loud without fear of being silenced. They allow me to be sensitive without always having to put on a brave face. They allow me to be passionate without fear of being called out. They allow me to be stubborn without being told I am too uptight. They allow me to be guarded and still let someone see the real me.

My flaws allow me to be me even when "me" is not always who I tried to change to be.