Tofu Birthing

Finding this difficult balance.  Find this difficult balance.  I am finding this mission of mine to be mellow, controlled, calm, rational, and classy in any situation to be a tofu-like substance.  It’s a bit milky and gooey to push through but once I am there, and have been marinated in flavor called experience, I come out tasty and ready to go.  What a disgusting analogy.  I sometimes wish I had a pleasant face.  One that would be welcoming and happy, and could disguise any raw or hard emotion that I feel, one that could make people have warm fuzzies, letting them leave feeling superb.  I, instead, sport an asshole glare.  An intimidating stare.  I am a weirdo, rocking the one-sided hipster.  I am fashion’s biggest enemy.  Pink tips instead of white.  Red eye shadow instead of brown.  I am not a boring clown, I embrace the inner weirdo.  I love to paint, I love to draw, I adore poetry and literature.  I prefer psych fashion to runway horror.  I am embracing this lovely weirdo.  I will be strange everyday of my life, not a cookie cutter one, but a unique kind of wife.  I enjoy my humor, and need to break out of this shell.  Hell.  I have been captive in my own prison for way too long.  I will be going to college, to become a big important person.  Taking suggestions currently.