I am changing into who I am meant to be and it is scary.

My body is turning into someone who looks like a woman. I look at my hips, widening with the days, block back the tears that come when people pull me to the side and give me the knowing glance.

Those hips came from...you know. They say, giving me a side grin. I look back and sigh. No, no bun in this oven. Still trying to figure out the yeast in my own oven.

I see how my steps have become more confident. I speak up more, but then in the same breath, I've become quieter and more fearful. I am becoming myself, and the little girl in me is gripping tightly to who I was. She doesn't want to change.

Friends who I thought would bring the laughs in my life only bring tears that I just am not ready to yet fall yet. My relationship has brought up new questions. Marriage is not the answer that I am ready to reply with, although my boyfriend has luckily turned out to be pretty much the best guy in the world.

I am still learning the crooks and crevices of me. Of my body. From the tops of my soon to be all natural hair to the bottom of my toes. I want to learn me. I want to explore me. I want to love me, no questions asked.

This brown skinned girl...I just want to be her. I just want to be me, and I know this makes no sense at all, but that's the beauty in this process. It makes no sense to me, yet I know that I'm on the right path.

I love hard. I try to write the stories that I think fit the people in my life, but I'm learning that journalism and storytelling, although my gifts, are best for characters that I have no ties to. I'm focusing on writing my own story. Using the notebooks that I've had all alone. Selah.

Oh, and it means...praise and meditation.