"Oh my God, Zara," he whispered, taking a good look at me. The insecurity managed to break through my amorousness. "I knew you were a beautiful woman, but damn, you're about to kill me with those curves." "I..." I wrapped my arms around chest, feebly trying to shield myself from his stare. Shame churned within my stomach. "I-Is that a bad thing?" "No, it's a very good thing." Gently, he pushes my arms away so I can't hide myself anymore. I sighed as his fingers drew little lines along the curves of my hips. "Almost makes we wish I was a race car driver so I could fully appreciate them."

Are we all as strong as we seem? This is a narrative of the different conflicting thoughts people have, thoughts that make them feel irrelevant, vulnerable, weak, broken and more importantly fragile.