A ball again tonight, I get ready after I wrap my arm and head to it, mother and father already there. I run a hand through my hair but don't bother rushing, getting there just in time.
All you need is faith, trust, and a little bit of pixie-dust!
Mother mentions a ball, gets me all nice and proper for it, even though I tell her all I want to do is sleep. Just like before I left, they drag me to the ceremony and show me around as if I'm some prize, making sure to mention that I fought for our town. My stomach knots, the whole thing sickening to me, and I remain expressionless the whole night.
I'm never what I like I'm double sided And I just can't hide I kind of like it When I make you cry 'Cause I'm twisted up, twisted up Inside
My parents separate from me and leave me standing in the middle of the ballroom. The noise, constant chatter, unsettles me and I soon find myself heading out the door for fresh air.
I'm never what I like I'm double sided And I just can't hide I kind of like it When I make you cry 'Cause I'm twisted up, twisted up Inside
Once outside, I allow myself to breathe. Shaking my head at myself, I force the sound of cannons firing and shouts of pain out of my head. I close my eyes and run a hand through my hair, leaning against the brick of an alleyway.
I'm never what I like I'm double sided And I just can't hide I kind of like it When I make you cry 'Cause I'm twisted up, twisted up Inside
Owning our story can be hard but not nearly as difficult as spending our lives running from it. Embracing our vulnerabilities is risky but not nearly as dangerous as giving up on love and belonging and joy—the experiences that make us the most vulnerable. Only when we are brave enough to explore the darkness will we discover the infinite power of our light. — Brené Brown