What’s the first impression you want to give people?

Updated 7:13 AM HST 11/16/24

I stand in the mirror, a canvas of years,

A map of my triumphs, my laughter, my tears.

Not flawless, not saintly, not carved out of stone,

But perfectly me, in a league of my own.

I envy no other, nor cradle disdain,

For life is too brief to compare or complain.

Each scar is a story, each line a refrain,

Of a soul that has danced through both joy and through pain.

I speak with intention, I think and I weigh,

Each word a reflection of truth I convey.

Not seeking to dazzle or sparkle as wise,

But striving for kindness in others’ bright eyes.

For I know the struggle is shared by us all,

Life’s bittersweet nature will rise and will fall.

What matters is choice, how we give, how we grow,

How we scatter goodwill wherever we go.

I’m no saint, far from perfect, yet always I strive,

To be better, to nurture the spark that’s alive.

Self-guarding, self-mending, I learn and I mend,

On this endless pursuit to be more than a friend.

So I walk through this world, with my head held up high,

Not above, not beneath, just as me—no disguise.

For comfort in one’s skin is a victory rare,

A quiet, fierce pride that no envy can wear.