Who Am I?
I am Saffiya Smith.
I have curly and sometimes frizzy shoulder-length brown hair. ′
I have big green eyes and I have long, thick dark black eyelashes.
I have something in-between a button nose and a Grecian nose.
I’m around 5′7 and I have tan coffee with milk skin.
I’m a person just like any other.
I have hobbies, fears, hopes, and wishes, high points, and low points.
I am who I am and I can’t be anyone other than that.
I am a student who tries hard but doesn’t try as often as I should.
I am a writer who is passionate and prefers mysteries and supernatural/fantasy over Sci-fi.
I am a friend who is loyal and honest as I can be about what I can talk about.
I am a person with flaws and cracks that filter my hopes and characteristics.
I’ve made mistakes I get reminded of every moment every day.
I am someone who looks forward to the days of being in love and having my heart broken because with leaving my heart open I will be accepting change and that I am worth being loved in a way that is different from friends or family.
I want to help people by showing that there are people who care and are understanding
I have a hard time expressing my emotions on my face despite how deeply I do feel.
I give what I don’t expect from other people.
I am comfortable in my skin, in my wants, wishes, and desires.
I think this is longer than I intended but I hope this answers your question.
Humans, Logan is one of them.
Hello humans!
Today we shall learn,
About someone who is definitely human!
Logan Lambert,
Has always had Autism Spectrum disorder,
Making him seem not human.
But he definitely is!
He is interested in reading, fantasy, and sci-fi,
Like plenty of other humans!
Writing too of course,
to help him understand others and let others understand him!
He is always watching others,
to learn how humans work.
He honestly just doesn't get them, but he tries his best!!
It might have taken him a few years to figure out what a friendly human is,
but he still did it!
Emotions and showing them, so so confusing.
Body language, tone of voice, what is this magic and how do I use it?
all questions our wonderful, definitely human, Logan asks.
He can feel, think, speak, just like anyone else.
Please remember of course, that he is human. Never say he is robotic or alien, or that he speaks like he isn't a human, or he might end up sad and cry...
Yes, Logan, definitely human!
A wonderful person, and human, indeed!
@countingstars
#poem
#childish
#serious
i am.
i am sydney.
i am thirteen.
i have glasses.
i am 5’4”.
i have medium length dark brown, almost black hair.
it glows honeyed brown, almost auburn in the sun.
i have dark brown eyes that also reflect a color lighter in the sun.
i like writing.
i like reading.
i like drawing.
i like art.
i am a californian.
i am a sister.
i am a daughter.
i am a cousin.
i am a niece.
i am a granddaughter.
i am a student.
i am a classmate.
i am a friend.
i am a best friend.
i am an acquaintance.
i am an artist.
i am a painter.
i am a writer.
i am a poet.
i am a girl.
some may say:
i am creative.
i am funny.
i am smart.
i am friendly.
i am silly.
i am funny.
i am confident.
i am creative.
i am caring.
i am talkative.
i am a go getter.
i am curious.
i am responsible(i’m really not)
i am quirky.
i am honest.
i am artistic.
i am supportive.
i am independent.
i am thoughtful.
i am compassionate.
i am kind.
i like to just say:
i am a person.
i am.
i am, i am, I AM.
~The Meek Shall Inherit the Earth~
If deep isn’t your style,
then I’ll push you into the ocean
and ask you if real life
is shallow.
Maybe it is.
This is my world. At least that’s what people tell me. They say the meek shall inherit the earth. So this is my world. But do I deserve it? Can I handle this immense responsibility? This is my world. I’m not sure I’m ready for it, but it is ready for me.
Yes.
We have work to do.
Random Thoughts About Me
Let’s skip the mundane. (You know what I mean: Two eyes. Two hands. Two feet. Etc.) Most of us are built like that — though not all.
Skin? If the average person has 22 square feet — two square meters — then I have a bit more. In fact, a bit more than I should. Veins? Let’s say 75,000 miles. That’s close.
If you scraped off my fat, you could make seven bars of soap. (Maybe 10.) But who'd want to shower using soap made from people fat? Not me. That's for sure.
My brain could survive a handful of minutes without oxygen. Perhaps a few more — but not many. When I listen to music, my heartbeat tends to sync with the rhythm. Yours does, too. Most people react that way.
Here’s something odd: One-quarter of the bones in my body are in my feet. Imagine that! I can’t. (Seems like it should be more.)
There's something like 100,000 miles of blood vessels squirming through my body. That means you could lay them out one-by-one and go around the world four times — though I can’t image why you’d want to do that.
By the way, I’m taller in the morning than I am at night. My left kidney is positioned a bit higher than my right one. I can’t breathe and swallow at the same time. (That’s probably true about you as well.)
Although I’m 72, my ears and nose continue to grow — at least that’s what someone on the Internet said. Know what else they said? That I shed about 600,000 particles of skin each hour, my brain produces enough electricity to light up a light bulb, and my body carries around about four pounds of bacteria. ("Yuk!")
One final thought: half of my hand-strength comes from my pinky finger. Ponder that next time you want to make a “pinky promise” with me
Who I Am
And, of just who
I am, I say.
I’m an old soul
as the one you see
in a world of many
wonderful ladies
I’m very much a child-
woman, with reaching
hands for the pen to
write it down.
If
pieces of
my
dying strength
should ever
fall off the edge
of the dreams
I’ve had,
I will look
for stronger
days, with all of
the mighty forces
of life, drawing
the end of
the rainbows.
My yesterday’s have
been many moments
leaving tiny bits of
the now,
a wonderful time
left over to build
on the golden years
Yes, I’m told
I will age,
gracefully
growing wings
and I am meant to
live like a taller giant
in a newer world
reliving my youth--
coloring yellow sun
houses-- capturing
the gardens of
everything
that is beautiful.
And, of just who
I am, I say.
if
ever these trials
of my aging
should find I’m
stronger than any
struggling doubt
It is then that I will
reach all of my life stories
finding gold in the pen
I write with.
And,
If words I write
Should say who I am - -
I am no longer anonymous
for I am simply an aging soul
and, yet, I am young in words.
i
i don't like the word "i" a lot.
it's a selfish word to me, but it is also so important to acknowledge.
depending on who you ask, i'm probably a different person.
the girl on the subway across from me might think i'm a nerd, since my book was bigger than her purse
the boy in my class might think i'm a good student with notes, when i actually completed them 10 minuted before class
my friends might think i'm introverted, weird and a little funny
but this is who i think i am;
i am someone who daydreams way too much about impossible scenarios, dragons, and ships/fandoms. i am someone who likes creating, but destruction has a negative connotation that's not always true. my humour is built of more sarcasm than anything else. i'm a writer, a musician, and i'm full of possibilities.
Me-error
Mirror mirror on the wall
Tell me who am I to all?
~
"A 'she' who would love to be called Fia
But her real name is Afia.
She is a daughter to her parents,
A student to her teachers,
A sister to her little brothers,
A friend to her mates,
No more guesses,
no boyfriend in her fate.
To the rest out in the world,
She is a stranger or someone who is unobserved.
Like others, she loves fun
Ah! she is not more than 5'1.
She owes dark brown eyes,
They may look black sometimes.
This year,
she graduated her high school,
So many memories,
and it feels so cruel.
She is someone you will abandon one day
She deserves to be loved, but no one dares to stay."
~
Mirror mirror on the wall,
Thanks for introducing me to all. :)
Bound To Be Me
A teardrop in an ocean, blue
Waterfall of joy imbues
Waves of white silk, mourning dew
With clouded thoughts in rainbow’s hue
A shadow in a cavern, dim
A lantern of illumine when
Starlight seeps, honey-golden
Drawing maps to what’s within:
Inkwell of wishes; shiraz wine
Married to the page, each line
Bound as one against my spine
Heart and spirit intertwined
Who are you?
Who are you?
To be honest, I don´t know
It depends on who´s asking
If it were my mother, I might joke and say ¨her favorite child¨
If it were my father, I might be the magician´s assistant
If my two sisters were to ask, I might say ¨the middle child¨
If it were my dog, I might be the belly-rubber
If it were my cats, I might be the sock thief who continually steals back socks that they stole
If it were my teachers, I might be the constantly confused student
If my friends were to ask, I might be the clumsy one
It all depends on who´s asking
So let me ask you one question,
Who are you?