Beauty

I have always thought that sadness and sorrow is a type of beauty. I’ve always found beauty in tears. Why? Because it’s human. It is us being who we are. When we allow tears to slip out, we allow our true selves to show.

For the longest time, I didn’t know why I found beauty in the things I did, but I knew that these things were just naturally beautiful to me. Strange things like crying, tears and pain. The beauty I see is not the beauty that society has taught us to perceive, but a different type of beauty, something that doesn’t exist within this day-to-day spectrum.

I have always struggled to be who I am, but now I know that I am capable of being who I am.

And so are you.

Advertisements

Acceptance

Accepting things can be difficult, if not impossible. Especially when these things you need to accept are some of your greatest fears.

I have always had a slew of fears regarding my physical health, because I was born with three major organs being chronically ill. I’ve been very sick my entire life, but now at 23 years old, the reality sets in. It’s not just my organs that are in danger, but other parts of my body as well that are considered disposable.

I discovered a long time ago that when the body is fighting to provide for a failing organ – let alone three failing organs – that it will give up on what is considered ‘superficial’, such as teeth and finger and toe nails. But there are other things the body will also give up – the senses of sight and hearing.

As I am already aware that my sight has been on a steep decline, it has always been a paralyzing fear of mine to be blind. How would I write? Sketch? See my loved ones? Now it’s a reality that I need to come to terms with – something I had always thought I could avoid. The same can and probably will happen for my hearing. To be deaf is scary enough, but to be deaf and blind at the same time is terrifying. I’m only 23 years old, and I have my entire life ahead of me. Still though, I don’t consider it over.

I don’t see acceptance as weakness; I see it as noble. To accept your deepest fears, allow them to happen and then to keep moving forward is something I am fortunately pretty good at.

It’s not easy to accept these things, and there is certainly no shortage of tears. But if I do end up losing these portions of myself, I know I will gain others in the long run.

And who knows? Maybe they will end up healing. Or…maybe even with these challenges I can be the one in a million that makes it work. A blind painter. A deaf singer. A dancer who has always struggled to move. It has happened before, so who is to say it won’t happen again?

Burned Bridges

Sometimes the people closest to you burn bridges, and there’s no reason why. There’s no point in burning the bridge that leads toward the person who has given you the most.

I have seen someone I love tormented and manipulated and thrown down by someone they love, but now that relationship is over (and no, it was not romantic).

I truly don’t understand the need to make a cruel statement through obscene actions and harsh words, and I really don’t understand cruelty and I hope I never will.

For those that have burned their bridges with you, do yourself a favor and don’t rebuild that bridge. For me it is only under extremely specific and special circumstances that I will allow someone to regain my trust. Genuinely, we need to make a real effort to try to understand each other, and go out of our way to be kind. I hope that by truly loving from the heart that I can change the lives of many. So can you.

Love others, treat them with the respect they don’t give you, not as a reflection of their person but of yours. But most importantly: don’t rebuild the bridges they burn. Not only have they stopped you from coming near them by burning them, but they have done you a favor as well – they have with which to hold onto to come back and ever hurt you again. That is what I call and consider a tender mercy.

Bullies

I have experienced a lot in my life and have definitely learned a lot within the last year. I’ve learned a lot about love, about how to love and about what to do when situations go awry. I am only twenty-three years old, but I’d like to think I’ve got some of this figured out.

I remember making a big fuss here on this blog almost a year ago about how I was bullied on The Swift Life, or TSL for short. But now as I look back, I see how I should have handled the situation. Though of course, at the time I was young and could not have understood what I do now.

People have told me that bullies are nothing but cowards, and that cyber-bullies are nothing but cowards hiding behind a computer screen. I have never really believed that. It has taken me a while to articulate, but here is what I believe:

Have you ever said something in your life that you regret? Have you ever lashed out in hurt? Most likely. We all have. Does that make you a bully? No.

I don’t believe that bullies are cowards sitting behind computer screens, or the jock in the high school locker room. I believe that bullies are living, breathing human beings who are truly suffering just as much as we are, and though we may not see it through damaged pride and hurt feelings, as well as shame, everyone is only human. Some of us turn our pain inwards while some of us lash out. We all feel the exact same things, more or less. The rest is attributed to ignorance or lack of education.

I’ve never believed that bullies are terrible people, because we have all been something of a bully at some point in our lifetime. I think – or rather, know – that if we make an effort to react with love and understanding, not only will it confuse the bully…but it might just show them their worth.

Everyone is human, and everyone shows pain in different ways. Does that mean we should ostracize them? No. We should educate them in a simple and sufficient manner.

If we do so, this world might just be a better place yet.

Irreplaceable

It’s amazing how such a small action from someone that you don’t even speak to anymore can hurt so much. These smallest little details that can reach under our skin and act like table salt against a wound. These small encounters are what makes life so hard when we are young.

Society tells us that we must be liked, loved, appreciated, admired and more by everyone around us. If not, we are worthless in society’s eyes.

I’ve never much liked society and its views, and as I’ve gotten older I’ve happily rejected it. If it weren’t for certain circumstances, I would happily live in the wilderness. Why? Because it is so much simpler.

If I had a small cabin hundreds of miles away from any form of modernized civilization, I think I would have an easier time finding my happiness. Coming from someone who has experienced mostly bullying and pain in my life, it would be a great joy to remain within my own solitude.

Since I was a child I have dreamed of having my own ranch of sorts. I have dreamed of being self sufficient through all of my needs. Food, water, shelter, clothing, education, etc. I have also dreamed of living on my own island…but perhaps that wouldn’t be the greatest idea at the moment as I struggle with my physical health and rely on modern medicine.

I digress. My apologies.

If society were a more welcoming and peaceful place, perhaps I wouldn’t be so keen to avoid it. We are taught from infancy that the smallest smile, eye roll, or even just the way someone looks at us completely determines our worth, inside and out. I have struggled with self worth all my life. I’m getting better at it. I hope.

But in this little cluttered post, I don’t know who needs to hear this, but I’ll say it just for you: it doesn’t matter what others think of you, say to you, or say about you. You are worth it. Let me repeat that.

You are worth it. And if they can’t see that, they don’t deserve the irreplaceable company, smile, and personality that you bring everywhere with you. And as far as I’m concerned….it’s their loss. And a great loss of theirs indeed, because of we were all to be a little more open-minded towards each other maybe we could see how irreplaceable every soul truly is, realizing that our own is just as special.

All These Words

All these words I wish I could say to you. I can’t force them to reach you. And all of these nights I wish I had apologized. I waited until it was too late. All of these times where you were by my side, although I turned away. I wish that these words could reach you in a way that I had never said. I wish that I could prove to you how sorry I was, and that I didn’t mean anything bad. But still, I wasn’t in a good place, and I was unbearably sad.

Mental illness is nothing to mess with. It’s nothing to be entirely proud of; at least, not in my eyes. Of course, I will always be honest about my mental challenges, and I’ll be grateful for the strength they give me in the long run. I’m just not one of those people that can say I’m proud of the illnesses. To me…illness is not something to be proud of, though survival is.

I made it. I survived. And it’s been so many years, I wish I could see your eyes so that I could know what you thought as I thanked you for all you did for me. Trying to help me in my darkest moments, and I regret turning the other way. I resented it all, and that’s something I can never take away.

However, it’s in the past, and there’s nothing I can do about it now. Perhaps I can just find a way to move past it and live in the present. Maybe there’s a way that I can let go of all these little scrapes and bruises. These small wounds that have neglected to heal over the past eight years.

Still, I wish there was a way to say thank you, for everything you did. And if I could do it again, I know I would.

The Girl I Used To Know

She dances as if the world doesn’t watch her. She sings as if the world doesn’t hear her. And I desperately try to be the person that she is, only to realize that she is already taken, and that I must be me. But as I watch her twirl as the world burns down, I wish that I could be that confident. I wish that I could find something within me that wouldn’t care what others thought. I wish that I wouldn’t worry all the time about how I look, how I sound, and how I feel.

The floor she dances on is barren. Covered in dust, it only provides traction for her to move her talented feet to dance even better. In the small white dress, I look through the mirror, placing my hand against the cold glass. Peering into another dimension, through the mirror at a girl I seemingly used to know. Her long brown hair that flows to her waist, twirling around her body as she spins with grace.

Who is this girl? Where did she come from?

Whatever I try in order to speak to her, it doesn’t work. She cannot hear me, but I can hear her. Perhaps this is because I am nothing but a reflection; the reflection of a life she left behind long ago. But even as I tug at my flame-like red hair, I know that it must be more than that.

Even as I blink, she’s stopped dancing and stands up across from me, on the other side of the mirror. She watches me with a strange gaze…this girl that looks so much like a doll. What I wouldn’t give to shatter the glass between our dimensions so that I could speak to her; just once. To whisper to her two words: thank you. 

But even as she turns and walks away, I feel a tear trickle down my cheek, my hand leaving the mirror and the ability to let go. Because in the end, the girl I see in the reflection…she’s me.

Writing

I write to satiate these feelings inside of me; the desire to soar up into the sky and never come down. The desire to fly into the clouds and enjoy their ever-lasting presence.

It can be very hard day-to-day, and sometimes I wonder how I’ll go on. I struggle with writing in the first place because I struggle with staying focused. But somehow writing has begun to be my solace. The place where I can come to rest, to relax, and to be truly me. I’ve never felt this world would ever truly accept me for who I am.

I have struggled all my life with being different. Perhaps that’s okay. Maybe it’s fine to be different than everyone else, and maybe it’s okay to use writing to fill up that empty feeling in my chest. But something happened that I never expected: not only does the empty feeling become filled upon writing, but it disappears completely.

When I was younger I never thought that anything could ever help me. The depression I felt, the anxiety I felt with simply walking outside because I was afraid of being criticized for everything and anything I was. I wondered if there was ever a way out, and later, I found there was. Through my words I can find a way out.

To be honest, I’m not sure why I’m writing this. But this has satiated that need within me; filled that empty space. And if someone ends up liking this and relating to it, then good. That’s something I’ll be very happy about. But I’ve come to realize that nobody has to relate to or like my writing for me to be happy with it. Writing is language that comes from your soul, and if that’s not one of the most sacred things in the world…I don’t know what is.

Hallow’s Eve

Here on Hallow’s Eve, I find myself daring to leave. Something deep inside of me; something that now brings me peace.

On this once frightening day, I see children out to play. On this once frightening spirit, I know now how to clear it.

Oh Hallow’s Eve, how beautiful you are, with every mark and every scar. I watch you from afar. Envious of all that you are. I find myself drawn to the darkness, the frightening faces and creatures. There’s something about it that my mind needs to feature. Something deep within that calls my name; the name I bore in another life I lived. I feel as though it’s calling out to me, rattling against my own ribs. Trying to get to my heart, to the very core and the very start. As I find that perhaps only the darkness understands me, you are here to simply let me be.

 

Happy Halloween everybody!

Paid All My Dues

Sometimes it seems that life goes on without meaning to. It goes on, relentlessly and ruthlessly. That’s what I’ve learned, at least.

At night, I dream of a little house in the sky. Somewhere I can go to call home. It has wooden floors and herbs in planters. It has sunshine all the time and fresh air and the smell of lavender and ladders to climb up to a little bunk with books, blankets, and pillows so that I can read as I fall asleep with the sun shining on my face.

I’m always in a beautiful dress, imagining myself as a fairy. Something that – to me – means innocence. It’s an innocence that I would do anything to get back. And every time I have this dream, there’s chaos that I’m escaping from in the dream. The chaos always comes from a reflection of my real life. I escape to my Sky House, and everything will be okay.

What I wonder is if one day, I could realistically build such a house? Could I realistically build such a little sanctuary? Because even as I sit in my room, something that used to be my sanctuary, I cannot find the peace I once had. Now, all I feel is the pain as yelling and screaming permeates the entire house and I seek to find a home as I realize that the word ‘home’ has seeped out of where I now live.

Don’t get me wrong, though. I do love where I live. I do love family. But toxicity is toxicity, and it can be terrifying. Of course, if I ever make it that far – as to find my own home – I will always keep the relationships intact. However, even as I cut and bleed, cry and bitterly fall asleep at midnight – or sometimes not at all – there’s this inkling that there’s something right around the corner. Something better that’s coming my way. There’s always this thing in my heart that whispers: You’ve paid your dues. 

I will make it through anything, for I am as strong as diamond. However, right now, I don’t shine as bright. I remember someone once telling me that diamonds needed to be cut down – their rough edges taken off before they shined and glimmered like they do on TV.

Now, I realize that I am that diamond, and I’m simply having those rough edges taken off. And someday I hope to be fitted into the most beautiful ring in the world, to find the happiness I’ve always sought, and the peace that I once knew.