I Am Not

I am not.

When you asked me to define myself I found it terribly difficult to add words to follow the phrase “I am.” So, looking at the straw of my untouched milkshake, I started the sentence with an “I am not.”

I am not a morning person. I am not one of those girls in cereal advertisements that look gorgeous when they wake up. I am not a stylistic girl. I am not a refined woman. I am not one of those people that is always great at everything and anything. I don’t have perfect handwriting. I don’t have a perfect body. I don’t have a perfect face that never had a pimple.

I’d say that I’m more of a 2 am thinker. Staring into the ceiling and asking the same questions over and over again. I’d say that I mix cereals into my favourite cookie recipe. I’d say that I’m more of a girl that goes out on the road wearing a shirt and a pair of jeans. I’d say that I’m more of a person that eats like there’s no tomorrow even in public places. I’d say that I suck at anything and everything that I try to do. I’d say that my handwriting is worse than those of a doctor’s. I’d say that I have belly fat. I’d say that I have a not-so-proportional face that is always ridiculed by zits every time it’s that time of the month again.

But then, I won’t say those things. I’d rather say something positive but I’m not, rather than say something negative, in which I am. A-hundred-percent-Am.

Because people long for perfection. They ask for too much perfection without realizing that they live in an imperfect world. Well if they actually realized that, they’d probably still ask for perfection.

Maybe that’s the reason why I can’t start my sentences with an “I am” and instead begin with an “I am not.”

Because I’m scared they’ll stop listening once they hear the phrase “I’m just me.”