I have opinions and judgments.

I waste and obsess.

I pollute, curse

and share in ignorance.

I have hypocritical tendencies.

 

I scheme and scam,

convince and connive.

I get angry and plot revenge.

 

I get crude and rude and lude.

I can be offensive and mean.

I misdirect my anger,

insult and spew venom.

 

I get bored easily and disgruntled quickly.

I have testy times and grumpy vibes.

I cannot take a joke – but I can give them.

 

I complain, gossip and taddle.

I enjoy throwing people under the bus,

watching others make mistakes

and blaming others for mine.

I have self-pity and search for sympathy when I fail,  

yet, I have no time for other people’s sorrow.

 

I love winning games, at any and all costs.

I brag when I win, celebrate profusely and talk trash.  

I sport a poor attitude when I lose,

maybe it is because I cheat. 

 

I lie and deceive.

I like giving people the middle finger,

cursing someone out,

and talking behind their back.

 

I do not burn bridges, I blow them up.

I yell, scream and shout in public

especially when I do not get my way.

 

I know I am not perfect,

yet, I can be the first to point out other people’s imperfections,

make fun of their dysfunctions,

and exaggerate their malfunctions –

not to mention push people’s buttons.

I passively aggress,

get envious at other people's success,

and stew in thoughts of negativity.

 

Despite all this I carry inside,

they are only just parts of me.

I have other parts and pieces, just come and see.

I may be a walking bag of contradictions,

but wait,

oh, just wait, Walt,

whimsical Walt,

we all contain multitudes.

 

Can you embrace me and all of my faults and failures,

all of my shades of gray (I have more than fifty),

my idiosyncrasies and quirks,

my oddities and malfunctions?  

Can you accept me with all my jagged edges and sharp points,

split ends and disastrous deeds,

affectations and afflictions,

hypocrisies and contradictions?

Can you welcome me with all my tempters and bad days,

my flailing remarks and sad ways,

rude comments and personality flares,

egoic tirades and terrified scares?

 

Myself is myself.

Me is me.

I have my moments.

Now that the air is clear

and I am allowed to have my moments,

maybe I won’t have as many.

I can now explore,

the other parts of me

more fully and famously,

more freakishly and flamboyantly,

more directly and nonjudgmentally.

I am more gregarious and inspired,

enspirited and enthusiastic,

grand and fantastic

to move into my awkward moments gracefully,

my scared moments fearlessly,

and my ugly moments beautifully. 

 

I can go on and enjoy my journey.

Even though I have…

I am something else altogether,

something wonderful and sweet

tender, magnificent, and awesome.

I am the journeying me

and someday I will see

more purely

what my soul can be.