Who am I?

 Why do I let things get to me so easily?

Why do I always allow people to break me down?

I am so weak from everything I’ve been carrying, all the things I’ve held in, and all the things people have said, that make me feel so worthless.

I know who I am, and I know what kind of person I am..

But I question all of it when I am told that I need to.

People will tell me what I am, and I will accept it, and forget who I thought I was.

I will begin to know myself as the stranger they described me as.

I will fear my reflection, and will be unable to recognize the pale and tired girl staring back.

I don’t know who I am anymore.

-Winnie

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