the older i get, the more i see myself as a set of matryoshka dolls. how the years of love and effort continuously weave themselves into someone just the slightest bit sturdier than the last. how that wobbly little base, finally resting upon a solid foundation, is no longer knocked aside by the same old troubles. how with time i've become so beautifully complex, each new shell gifting me extra space to become who i've always wanted. and at the center of my heart, still that little doll--face so small that their features blur together. i'm doing it for them, i've always been doing it for them. painting my new face with hands that are steadier each time.
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