It happened one night. I decided to believe in the power of me. I threw off the puppet strings that controlled me and decided to choose for myself.
I realized what I want, and the things I hope to accomplish in life. It was at that moment I realized things I want can be accomplished by me and through me. But I also realized that me is not just me.
There is more to me, and behind me is the support of my family, friends and Christ. Me is the environment I grew up in, the mistakes I make every day, the trials I strive to overcome and the things I regret I did. All those elements of me are things I am proud of.
I’m proud that I have made mistakes, it makes my human. I am proud I have trials, it gives me empathy. I am proud I have things I regret, it makes me really think before I act.
I have the power to make every day mine. I own every day. No matter what detours I hit or potholes I get stuck in, I claim it as mine.
I have the power to dream and hope; to dream things unreal and hope for things unseen. My head is full of ridiculous, childish, unrealistic hopes and ideal, but I do not care. They are mine.
I have the power to ignore the negative people in the world and shut them out of my sphere of influence. I have the power to choose who I listen to and who will influence my actions.
I have the power to control my own happiness. People can do what they want in front of me, but I have the power to let it get to me or rise above it and stay true to myself. It is a choice, and a choice that I own.
I have the power to do it. To climb Mount Everest, graduate from college, be a mother and live to be 103.
I have the power to be me. Outrageous, flirtatious, outgoing, loud, self-conscious, interruptive, intrusive, nosy, divine, fascinating me.
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