Inside, she's complex. Her brown hair, hazel eyes, and black boots may sell confidence on the outside. But, on the inside she's freckles and sneakers; still trying things out, still trying to remember which foot to put forward, and still trying to find the hair style that looks just right. She's scared too; scared of doing anything that might disappoint her future and of upsetting the people who care about her most, scared that maybe love isn't always enough.
"I wish I could just please everyone," she often thinks. Then other times she's the devil on her shoulder; "don't let everyone get to you. You can't please them all."
Short skirt and up do, she feels flawless. Yet, with one insecurity there are always two more. It's a never ending fork in the road and that's life; uncertainty, dismay, and darkness just as much as there is happy on Friday and Saturday.
She's like the days of the week, I suppose. A different feeling for each one yet still trying to configure a feeling that she can call her own; not Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, or Thursday. Nor, Friday, Saturday, or Sunday. A day that is everyday; of confidence, hope, and fearlessness.