I am loved.
Not by a husband or a boyfriend or even from a mom and dad, but from friends, from aunts, cousins, an uncle, a teacher or two. It has been a village.
I am wise.
Not from a college degree, but from pain and sorrow and from standing tall to tell you all.
I am beautiful.
Not from Hollywood standards or my father’s, but from my eyes and what some friends and lovers direct me to see.
I am rich.
Not from owning a house or a two bedroom condo in the San Fernando Valley, in which I do not, but I am because I invest in me. I am able to feed my hunger, not merely food but means for a better life... in which I truly hunger for.
I have been through loss and hardship.
Abuse and deception.
I guess I am a victim, a fighter, a warrior, and a survivor.
So I observe.
So I absorb.
I do not know why things happen the way they do.
But I exist within it all.
I exist to tell you all.