I like to keep everything in my life compartmentalized. Everything belongs in its own box, and nothing overlaps. Family/work/friends/lovers/hobbies/etc. I like neat, little labels. But sometimes life is messy.

Things don’t stay where they belong. Sometimes a friend at book club wants to know about my hobby. Sometimes coworkers become lovers, then exes. Sometimes friends are lovers, and lovers are friends. I can’t be a dozen different people trying to keep everything apart, especially if I do more than one thing, and love more than one person.

It’s time for me to pull out all the dividers, and be one person. It might not be such a bad thing if my peas touch my potatoes. I am one, bright, swirly, authentic, mess of color. I am a shy exhibitionist. I long to be tied up and owned, and be wild and free. I like some things you like and some things you hate.

I am bold and insecure. I wear pretty dresses with nylons and pearls, and I dance barefoot in the mud and rain. I love coffee and tea. I am a witch and an atheist, a prude and a slut. Green is my favorite color, but some days I prefer black.

 I am the Hag, the Mother, and the Maiden. I am happy and positive, but I spend days in bed crying. I am good and bad. I run from pain and embrace it. I want security and adventure. I am fire and ice, earth and air. I am a realist who fantasized all day. I build safety and crave danger.

I am submissive and an independent feminist. I like girls. I also like boys. I am a polyamorist searching for a soulmate. I am weak and strong. I am wise and still learning. I am good enough and growing. I’m in love and searching for love.