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When asked who am I, I think of my physical body. I have brown eyes, brown hair, around 5’5”, 135ish pounds, a little toned, and so on. But that is not who I am, that’s just what you see.
The real me lies within (corny answer, I know, but true). The real me cowers within the corners of my mind. The real me escapes into the beautiful, open arms of my imagination. The real me has no limits or boundaries. The real me flows in the soothing stream of my soul. The real me is not something I can fully describe with words.
Unlike, the physical me, the real me is never constant, it is continuously changing like the leaves of a tree or words on a whiteboard. The real me, simply put, is everything you don’t see.
The tears I have cried make up my real eyes. The smiles I have enjoyed and frowns I have endured turn into my real mouth. The twitching, caused by laughter, creates my real belly and nose. The difficulties and obstacles I have overcame transform in to my real strength. The love I have shown or been shown, the hate I have also seen builds my real heart. The air I have used to calm myself becomes my true peace. The rest of the real me is a mystery. A mystery is still in the process of creating itself.
Written by: Marissa A. McLeodMarissa Alexandria McLeod May 21, 1992 - December 1, 2009
To read more about the lives Marissa touched, please visit www.marissamcleod.com
