You see, I’ve been on both ends, the smile and the tear,

But still I stand after all of my years,

Perhaps a little wiser, maybe stronger too,

But I’m still nowhere close to what I’m meant to do.

And although I seem generous and incredibly kind,

They called her Little, but Little was big. Little was tall, with stooped shoulders and an odd, loping gait. Mostly, though, Little was lonely.

She was like a dandelion in a field of perfectly cut grass—bright and beautiful to some, but ugly and unwanted to others. 

I’m the kind of girl who doesn’t let go.

I’m the kind of girl who doesn’t let her true colors show.

The girl who hides her sadness as if she’s wearing a mask

And says that everything is fine.

The girl who pretends everything is sublime.

Who am I?

     I am a puzzle. A million words and thoughts and ideas, feelings that fit together.

     I can maybe identify some of them if