As any other person, I have many names. 

You might know me as deficient, as I can never successfully complete my tasks.

You might call me anxious, as I have those dark voices floating in my brain.

You might call me tainted or unfinished, as I have these scars on my body.

You might call me insane or destroyed, seeing as I have these recurring dreams.

You might call me a failure or displeaser, seeing as I always seem to be against you or never ready to take your side.

You might see me as unfocused or apathetic, seeing as I am constantly dissociating.

That's ok, you can call me as you wish.

Because I see me.

I know myself as a floundering artist.

I like to draw, but the lines are not straight.

I like to sing, but my voice is rough and often discordant. 

I like to write but my stories are seen and unfinished or bleak, not worth the time.

I like to play guitar and piano, even though I am unable to read the notes or find a rhythm.

I like to dance, even though my body does not move in a pleasing way.

I like to act, even though I am not convincing.

Yet I convince you I am fine with my laugh.

That's ok.

I enjoy doing these things, the things that make me smile.

Because I know myself as the person who finds passion in art, any art.

I see my failure as an improvement.

My name?

I have already told you.

Oh.

That name.

You may call me Kylee, but anything else is fine, just as long as it's mine.