I'm afraid of the dark, of public speaking
Of dying alone, of those awkward greetings.
I'm afraid of looking dumb, there's so much to overcome.
I’m afraid of being mugged, that I’ll never find true love.
I’m afraid that my dad will wake up one morning and says he’s had enough
Leaves us alone and ruined for life
And that I will end up like one of those bums that you find on the street corner
Just asking for some spare quarters.
You see, no matter how old I get
I can't seem to loosen the grip of fear from my lips.
I used to have a stutter and a lisp.
I mean for years my S's would repeat and sound like thith
And it was so embarrassing that to this day it
Plays a much bigger emphasis on my life than I care to admit.
My mind just can't seem to forget
The not too silent diss from the kids in middle school
Saying “silly Mahshad spit it out”
“she sounds like porky the pig with a sponge in her mouth.”
Soaking up all the S syllables as I would stumble over my words
Until I would just stop speaking so my stutter wouldn’t be heard
And I know that may sound absurd
But I used to think that I was just this little girl
Whose throat swelled up in interviews for fear that stuttering is not what winners do
I don’t know what happened but
As the years went by
My stutter became less
As if with a magical power
I came to have more control over it
I realized that I shouldn’t be afraid,
Because there’s no one who can break you.
No one who can take you.
No one who can shake you.
Because the one who created you
Is bigger than all of that.
He's bigger than all of your fears.
From those years, and those tears
From crying on your pillow because you just wanted to be normal.
But God doesn’t use those that are normal.
He uses those who are willing, willing to be themselves.
So Be you. The individual.
Not the you that you've pieced together from magazine models
Or Nicholas Sparks novels. Be You.
The uniquely created, special and sacred individual. You.
The one with experiences, opinions and beliefs,
The things that make you unique.
Your scars share them.
Your broken hearts wear them
Don't let others critical remarks, pierce you in the arms like barbs
That hold you back from being you. Stay true to being you.