Sammi

She is tired, a combination of too much sleep and too little in no particular pattern. The spring in her step is not quite as springy as it once was, like a slinky that gets stretched a little too far and never quite returns to normal. She has been stretched a million different ways over the years, bending over backwards and contorting herself to the whims of others, a master of self-manipulation, and it has left a weariness that ages her beyond her years. Most recently it has been her children that stretched her; her belly to carry them, her arms to hold them tight, her heart to love them. Her heart is the biggest and fullest it has ever been, and she wears it proudly upon her sleeve for all to see. It bears many scars, some which have faded to barely-there traces, others deep crevices across its chambers, but they are healing. One day they might not be there at all, she hopes.

She speaks with a lisp from too many years talking through a mouthful of braces, which make her wonder if the braces were worth it. But her voice is girlish and tuneful, ready to break into song at any moment. She loves to sing, and to dance, although her steps are never as precise as her notes, and she suffers from chronic clumsiness; her arms and legs usually sporting bruises from her lack of spatial awareness. She sometimes feels as if she is simply too big and ungainly, where in her mind she must be two inches smaller in every direction than she is in reality.

She can never hide her emotions. She laughs loudly, and cries when she's hurt. She struggles to lie, because her face will always betray the truth. She is fiercely loyal, and as protective of her loved ones as any beast. She daydreams and likes the world to be silent so she can listen to the songs and stories in her head. Her mind is a beautiful mess of song lyrics, scientific facts, untold tales, hidden memories, and self-hatred. She is by far her biggest critic, and craves the approval of others as she can never approve of herself.

She often wishes she could be anyone other than herself. But she is not. She is who she is, and that will probably never change.