"bravado" before self acceptance

I used to tell my story because reading from the pages was done easily
Simply citing my memories 
of things that did not seem to be 
in anyway controllable or really have affected me
But softly fading just reciting events 
That didn't really make much sense 
Lessened any true impact
Seems soul and body lost contact

But now realizing that soul and purpose are different
I take ownership and become independent searching for more resilience
The pages of my story 
are binned together by the struggle, confusion, pain, and hurt of my own soul
But makes my book heavy and hard to carry. 

Originally only a pamphlet that included memories and events
Leaning on reason being heaven sent
Which minimized my feelings and stripped my soul
Longing for a fairy tale that wasn't told (but soon to be lived everyday)
Continuing to grow and differentiate 
restraints, fate and the things that cause me to hesitate 
my soul eventually allows me to reciprocate
purpose
purpose for things that weave people together strong ties and links
Paradoxically, struggle binds me and my pages by my strengths

But because of my book I over think
and the weave of relationships with others begins to shrink 
And my story gets moved around - shoved 
hard to care for something that's truth is ugly and lacks any love
these chapters smack into the face of the author
Then again, soul and body separate 
Perspective of a "close up" fuzzy blurry font 
bringing forth things that haunt 
And pages scream read me, 
and remember but only remember minimally
what seems to be
just enough to know - know that you fear the unknown 
the uncertainty the lack of clarity resulting embedded GUILT 

Spirit and strength inside me why do you deny me
self doubt upon acknowledgment that my story not yet a book 
due to not knowing that feelings deserve another look 
feelings which hold together this heavy story that I mistook
to be easily exposed via a source seeming to to share simplicity as a pamphlet
a pamphlet pointing out things unseen 
and not crediting self strength... 
when in all seriousness those my events have been read 
and is there really much more to be said...? 
or anything more to be known 
for no one else's wrong doing I must suffer - or atone 
but fight the darkness that any lost thought or soul is in
so rather than believe in fairy tales or pretend 
there are thoughts to be shared 
developing more care 
for self and then others... 
so that the words that are being written now 
won't be wasted or lost somehow 
but used to write another chapter in my life