To tell you what I am I’ll first tell you what I am not,I am not a perfect piece of pressed parchment nor am i a prone placed object a permanent piece of perfect polyester  forever welcoming you home. I am a patchwork an oddity of emotions of joy sadness loss and of warmth of life.I am a project, a project that is often neglected and often loosely held together I'm experimental  wildly thrown together.What I am is a blanket of patches that is never quite finished my corners are twisted my seams bent and bursting at the constant growth the unwavering expansion the adaptation of rebirth and reinvention.Through growth my sides have been torn threads popping out one string at a time with loose threads left over as a reminder a thorn,a remanence of what once was.I am worn my surface my edges my seems have all been ordained with coffee stains  marked in memories lamented with laughter a light hearted limerick a giggly disaster.  My coffee stains are the forgotten friends the experiences and the places i’ll never see again they are my sharp edges my loose ends.I'd like to think that to some strange mind  I  could come off as a twisted piece of art a mosaic of music melded by the constant metronome of the often metered melancholy melody of life, but i realize that to many im am nothing but a worn texture a bland clique a stale note that should be left alone in the remnants of the attic to fray.However if you were to ask me what I was I would reply that I am neither.I would reply that I am both pain and joy a mosaic and a torn coffee stained texture and furthermore I'd proclaim That I am a quilt that I know I am a quilt and that I am not a welcome mat for my patches along with the absence of the scrolled lettering of the word welcome across my chest stand as symbols,not symbols of superiority or inadequacy but symbols entirely aware of the fact that my individual personality represents my strengths and perfect pieces as much as I represent my flaws and the parts of me that may make me feel anything but welcome.