I didn't type in this for your edits, didn't talk so you may review my breath, didn't step forward just to be reshaped by hands that do not know what it took to move. I don't want your criticsPixabayI built this from quiet, from shaking, concealed mornings. You see the sentence, but not the war some time recently the word. You see the line, but not the thousand forms I buried.

I do not want criticism.CanvaNot today. Not when I as of now wrestled with my reflection this morning. Not when my contemplations have been uproarious and unfeeling and steady. Not when I've replayed each word I said recently, pondering on the off chance that I sounded absurd, as well energetic, as well much.

CanvaMeasure this— not the inches of my tallness, but the profundity of my soul when it denied to crease beneath weight that broken concrete.Do not weigh my worth by the digits in my account, but by the weightless things— the cherish I provide openly, the peace I ensure furiously, the trust I plant discreetly in gardens no one sees.

Measure this.CanvaMeasure the quiet between words when adore begins to blur. Degree the weight of an unanswered message, the hurt of a deferred reaction. Degree the separate between two individuals sitting right another to each other, now not coming to for each other's hands. Degree the quality it takes to grin through torment. Degree the esteem of devotion in a world where disloyalty comes cheap.

I would describe myself as confident and outgoing, someone who really gravitates toward social circumstances and increases in value meddle with others. From a young age, I found it basic to start talks, make new companions, and conversation up in assemble settings. Rather than shying truant from thought, I tend to get a handle on it, especially when it gives me the chance to particular myself or raise others.

She went to war without a edge, No head protector for the considerations she braved, No walking band, no thundering cheer, Fair trembling breath and noiseless fear.She went to war with wounds unhealed, The kind that time had never fixed. Her front line: a calm room, Her foes: self-doubt and anguish.