I awoke this afternoon with tears in my eyes. They glistened with the sheen of broken defeat and slid down my face and onto my pillow, drenching the cloth and cementing my torment in physical condition. The light did not welcome me; I had retired the night before pleading that the sun would never rise.

Is this the experience I've begged for? In my foolish conquest for adventure did I silently bargain to cripple myself? Will I rise, will I find courage, will I inch forward towards whatever it is I want to be yet can't fathom becoming? I've glorified deceit, cunning and duplicity because I fear that I can accomplish nothing more. Where will I find the strength to change when I've outgrown the witless antics of the insecure? My pretension has distorted who I am; I haven't the courage to discover what that is because I'm too afraid nothing is there. Surely there's a hidden compartment from which I can draw support. Surely behind these masks and lies stands a woman worth cherishing.

May I do justice to the affection that has been showered upon this undeserving little girl. I stood thirsting, starving for acceptance under a cascade of devotion and tenderness, but instead of scurrying to collect every sacred drop I allowed it to run off me and I rendered it useless. How thankful I am for the pain my tears sear into my being; may they stand a reminder of the unconditional love I've taken advantage of.

I am weak. I have no option but to beg for mercy that extends above justice.