humanism stretchmarksonmystomachanditmakesmecry only it is so much more then strechmarks, so much more than anyone knows. therein lies my pain, my beauty, my life, my faults, my perfect imperfection, the essence which makes me human. and with each gash, with each strech mark, I realize that I can't be perfect, that I can't always be what they want me to be, and I try to embrace it and attempt to make the most of it, only to have my hope come crashing down upon me like a wave of solitude. |