I wonder what people think of me sometimes. How do I look walking around with my tattoos, two kids obviously far apart in age and wedding ring on my left hand. How do I come off to the guy at the bar next to me when I'm ordering a Hennessey ad ginger ale all made up, trying my best to appear aloof yet approachable. How does my family see me struggling to raise my girls on my paycheck with no help when they expected me to accomplish so much.How will my daughters look at their childhood? Will they see all I did for them or will they see what they didn't have? How do I see me? Sometimes I see a strong and able woman who can do it all with no worries. Other times, I look at myself and wonder what the hell happened. I know this isn't the life I had pictured but it's my life, for better or for worse. You know what, screw the world. I'm me and for all my quirks and faults and habits, it's what is here. I'll make the best of it because I have to. Who cares if you don't like me. I'm good.
