A response to myself; String and Clay 2

How can I know what I think, until I read what I write? I thought a lot of things in June that didn't prove true come August. August. What a beautiful month. It's the inbetween month with no holidays that is cut short by impending autumn. But it's still summer. August is like a game of perpetual emotional limbo. Not here. Not there. That's how I feel. I'm still under construction, but I've put a few bits of twine in and a little bit of mud. Now I'm out baking in the sun.  I know a few things now about myself that I didn't before, things that might interest you. I once thought I was too young, that day with the Roxberry banners. I know I'm not too young now. I'm not too old, either. I'm just me.  You seemed to have realized that and you're ok with it too. You've got these clear eyes. They're clear, but their color is murky. They're like Elton John, you see, because as he so wisely stated, I can't quite tell "if they're green, or they're blue." I thought about Elton John this morning. I thought about his music and lyrics. "Hold me close now, Tiny Dancer." I'd like you to take me and say that to me. I'd feel a little more complete if that happened, I think. The thing is, I told myself that couldn't happen until I was finished creating myself, or I'd feel emotionally compromised, like I let you affect who I was trying to become, which I'd always thought was going to be strictly between me and The Man Upstairs. I have one thing to say to that previous person, who thought she was above so much. Who you are is a mosaic of three parts. It's one part of how God  moulds you, another part of how you design yourself, and a third part of how other people paint themselves permanently into the canvas of your soul. So create yourself as best you can, but let others come in and paint right alongside you. You'll end up so beautiful if you do.