Im not flawless. Flawlessly beautiful, smart, adaptable, strong-willed while nurturing, allways lighing up a room with a beaming smile, skilled in every way. I am not perfect, im not a perfect doll that you can position, control how i talk, act, dress. I emerge in raw emotion that drives me, my responses are imperfect, my emotions imperfect, and my skills limit to what i have practised. I cannot and will not ignore your weaponises incompetence, bring you what you want, give you what you want, whevever you want, i am not always happy, i will not alwasy be perfect because i am flawed Beautifully flawed. My melancholy soul, the saddness that often wraps me up so tight i forget there is a world outside of its shelter, my clumbsy ways, poetic mannerisms, my somewhat pessimistic view of life and people, yet my soft, gentle love that is a complete oxymoron to my being. These unique and complex structures make me who i am, And they have been meticulously built over years of experience. I can not destroy who i am to fit how you want me. In order to love me, you must love the structure that holds me up in my darkest hour. But can you? Can you admire my inner structure? Do you see the complex beauty of it all as i do? In order to truly love someone, you need to love all of them. But can you? Are you able to love the consuming darkness people can hoard? Are you able to soothe it? Perhaps not. But that is what makes me human, its what makes us all human. That complexity, and i refuse to dumb myself down for you. Because i am no barbie. I am real.