Who am I? I am a sister, a daughter and a friend. I represent one of seven billion people in the world. I am a college student and I am that short blonde girl that works in the cafeteria. All of these things can be used to describe me by anyone who knows of me. These things describe me, but are they really who I am? On a deeper level, I am someone else entirely.

I am insecure. I take a look in the mirror and constantly point out my flaws. My nose is bumpy, my lips are too thin, and my eyes are too wide. I feel too small: minuscule to all of those around me. My legs are too short and my arms too small to lift even a case of water. This is who I am.

However, I am also confident. I look a little bit longer into that mirror and see the beauty in my imperfections. The bump in my nose is nothing but a representation of my Czechoslovakian ancestry. My lips, though they are thin, have never stopped me from giving someone a warm smile and they’ve never prevented me from letting my voice be heard. I am small. However, I am not minuscule. I have a large personality and I pride myself in being a bigger person than I actually am. My legs may be short, but that hasn’t stopped me from getting where I want to be in life. And while my arms may be small and lacking of muscle, I have not been incapable of lifting someone’s spirits or pulling a friend into a large, warm embrace. This is who I am.

I am the face of depression. I sit in my room afraid to face the world and deal with the obstacles that are thrown my way. I have flashbacks to traumatic events in my life. I cry in my bed when my roommates think I am sleeping and I consider dropping out and moving away. I ponder what everyone else’s world would be like if I weren’t in it. I am a mess of anxiety. I worry about the little things and jump to conclusions. I assume that everyone is talking about me or looking at me when I’m in a room of people. I feel alone and out of place. I feel I don’t belong.

I am someone who has been victimized yet I am not a victim. I am a survivor. A survivor of a troubled past and a survivor of the troubles I have yet to face. I get out of my room and surround myself with sisters and the best friends that have ever come into anyone’s life. I conquer all of the obstacles that I am forced to face. I have flashbacks of my traumatic past, but I also have flashbacks to the moments in my life that have caused me to smile and laugh so hard my stomach hurt. Moments spent with friends and family. Moments that truly matter. I cry out of fear and sadness, yet I also cry out of happiness and love. I consider dropping out and moving away, but I know that there isn’t a possibility of that happen. Because this is where I belong. I do fit in. I am not out of place. I matter. To my friends, to my family, to myself. I am a mess of anxiety. I do worry about a majority of things, but these worries are assuaged by the words of those who care about me when I can’t care about myself. I am here. I am alive. I belong.

I am a strong individual. I don’t just deal with the issues that are tossed in my direction, I conquer them. I am surrounded by friends and family who have helped me in more ways than I can count. I cannot possibly describe how much the people in my life mean to me. My heart and soul are made up of a mess of colors that somehow blend together to make a work of art. I am not just that girl that works in the cafeteria. I am so much more than that. I strive to become a girl comfortable in her own mind and body and I am slowly accomplishing this goal.

I am not just a star in the sky. I am a whole damn constellation. I just am.