One Size Fits All

To assume that one size fits all is one of the most foolish things an individual can do. I have seen this apply to all aspects of life, from medicine, to kids playing on a swing set, to college. We have this innate belief that we all work the same way, although we don’t. The fact that we think this way – I believe – is that we are not ignorant so much as simply avoiding the truth and looking the other way.

I have struggled with this all my life. In everything I ever did, as much as I was struggling, I never got help. I went to therapists for many reasons. They made fun of me. Elementary school teachers bullied me. Friends have crossed me off their lists. All because I am different.

I don’t intend to make a sad post, or a post that yells look at me! I am a victim! In fact, it’s quite the opposite. It’s been a while since I posted something, and I had this thought today, so I thought I would write about it.

It can be a cruel world in which we try to fit each other into something that is only unique to us. But if we start to look around, we can begin to understand how different we all are – every single one of us.

If we do that…maybe the world could be a better place.

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Mother Earth

Love can be such a complicated thing. But when we really think about it…is it really that complicated?

Love is something we all speak of, something we all believe we know. Love is the butterflies in your stomach when someone touches your arm, or the happiness and complete joy you feel from doing something anonymous for someone. My mom always called those things ‘hidden trophies’.

In my life, I would like to collect as many hidden trophies as possible.

I know there are many things that I’m good at, and many things I’m not good at. There are things that I understand and things I don’t understand. But one thing I am sure of is this: I know how to love. Truly and completely from the heart. And I definitely can’t say that for everyone I know.

I am not one of those people who will put myself above others, or say that I know how to do things they don’t simply to show that I have a skill or a talent that I want to show off. No, I’m a very private person. But in my search for my self-worth these past three years as I’ve been a full-time caretaker for my mother, I have discovered one thing I do better than anything else: love. I have the ability to truly love someone from the heart, in a way that doesn’t discriminate. I am able to love someone in a way they’ve never been loved before, and I would like to believe that this translates to all walks of life.

I’ve never really been in a relationship before (not a good one, anyways) but I know that when I am, I will do everything I can to shower that person with the deepest love and passion that I possibly can. Why? Because I want them to know how grateful I am to have them in my life. I want them to know how much I love them, how broken I would be if they were suddenly gone, and most importantly, I want them to realize what they’re worth.

I want to give others the things that I was never given in my life. Other than being loved by immediate family (my mom and brother), I have never really experienced good things in my life. Very rarely have I been given good things.

This world is selfish, cut-throat, and a battle against one another. I wish it wasn’t this way. Especially when it comes to love. I have found myself wishing on more than one occasion that money itself didn’t exist. If money didn’t exist, we wouldn’t have the need to false love.

I have often wondered what it would be like without technology and without the Internet (although I love both) because I wonder if it would give us the ability to learn to stop and look at the world around us. So many things around us are dying and we don’t even notice it. We are too buried in are smartphones and our technology, our likes on Facebook and Instagram, and the latest Tweet from our favorite celebrities. Why can’t we look up, look around, and appreciate the things around us? The things around us that are likely to be gone soon, maybe even tomorrow?

When I see nature, I try to snap a picture in my mind. I try to capture it. The feel, the scent, the look of it. The rustle of leaves on a tree moving in the wind, the smell of we earth when it rains, the look of a fresh daisy, and the joy of watching how tall a sunflower can grow. These are the simple pleasures that we have foregone in an effort to find the latest and greatest things. But in reality, our world is dying, and I’m not talking about global warming. Our world is dying because we fail to look at it. We fail to genuinely stop and look at our surroundings. Haven’t we thought about the fact that the earth itself is a living being, that it could very well feel and think just as we do, but on different wavelengths? Have we ever thought of the possibility that the reason so many things on the earth are dying could be because we fail to take care of them, and instead of blossoming in her own love for herself, the earth shrivels up, ashamed of herself for the way we treat her?

I like to think of the earth as an actual person, although not a human being. Something much more. Something beyond our comprehension and understanding at this point in time. I like to believe that the earth can hear us, understand us, but that she is also crying out, asking us to stop bullying her. Is there anything we can do to make her feel better?

I have heard countless times that one person cannot change or save the world, but I don’t believe that. I believe that if I put enough effort into something, that I can change that thing for the better – and even truly save it in the process. I like to pick up garbage, to clean things, to help little critters that are injured. Does it help? Maybe not in the big picture, but it helps me to believe that we can truly respect mother earth who has so selflessly given herself for our lives.

Isn’t that the least we can do?

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.

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.

All I Can Rely On

It seems that I’ll never truly understand this world, and perhaps that’s the way it’s meant to be. I never knew that it would be so hard, but I’d rather have a challenge than know that I’ve accomplished little to nothing.

It was never something that I regretted, however. Fighting for the things that I desired and the things that I knew I needed. And perhaps those things would fill the empty holes in my heart. Perhaps they would heal the wounds in my soul, and extract the poison that ravages my being.

But maybe not.

It’s all yet to be seen, how this all turns out. It’s something so simple yet so complicated. Nothing I ever would have expected. The ghosts watching me with a judgmental stare and the demons leaking out of the woodworks. I’ve seen from the people that I used to look up to that I should never crumble; I should never allow myself to flatten like they did. I will never allow myself to be destroyed in that way.

At some point I wish that I could have done it all different. I look back at the memories before, and wish that I could walk backwards within time to relive them again. But when I remember the struggles I faced during those moments, I find myself wanting to stay in the present. I find myself wishing for the future, and that’s something I’ve grown accustomed to. Something that I’ve found solace in, because as these things that I used to love and used to need no longer bring comfort to me. I struggle with that fake smile on my face everyday, but it’s exactly what I said in the beginning.

I’d rather fight for what I desire and fill the holes that are in my heart than allow myself to crumble like the people that I used to put so much trust in. Perhaps I’ve learned that sometimes, all you can rely on is yourself.

Nameless

I will step forward and try to be the very best version of me. But how could I be the best version of me when that’s something even I can’t see?

As I earn my place among them, and I fight to collect these rhymes, I will have to let go of those times. The times where it seemed everything fell out of place and everything I ever needed to far for me to reach, and too painful for me to face. I’d love to be among them, as confident as a queen, as elegant as lace. And despite my worries, it will never be too late.

Two long months, it seems. An eternity to me. Perhaps these clever miracles will show me all that I’m meant to be.

Bare without a name, I write mine on the walls of a small cave among the rocky shore, something they’ll always remember when they come back for more. As I desire to be known in this way, I’ll understand that my judgment can’t sway.

There will be so many watching, waiting, and anticipating. Whether I do the right thing or mess up. I’m not willing to give it up for certainty and security. Being everything that I want to be.

And solace within me can always be the freedom I’ll always need.

Real World

Sometimes I don’t know why, but I find myself desperate to cry. To let things out, to allow myself to feel. To see if these things are indeed real. Because it seems to me that I’ve taught myself not to cry, but for now I’ll try.

As past laughter echoes in my mind, and things like being made fun of aren’t struggles that are solely mine, I want to find that line, the one that allows a person to cry without facing judgment. Without facing torment.

I feel the scars from when I was younger, just a teenager, crying from my open wounds. And for now this pain of mine will be held within me. I remember the times that I tried not to cry and failed, but now I’m seeing things I’ve never seen before. I’m seeing these things that the real world has taught me; not the world of teenagers who are in the ‘popular group’ with the ringleader who pretends to be your friend and then stabs you behind your back.

No, this is the real world. In the real world, people cry. In the real world, people die. In the real world we don’t laugh at each other for the tears that leave our eyes and even though I might not be educated much on a formal level, I have an education of life experience that those my age rarely are allowed to see. And even though these things within me that bring this real world experience hurt, I will never let go of them because they are part of me, now and forever.

The physical heart that I was born with, facing life and death every day. The lungs that were underdeveloped when I was born are frayed. The kidneys that don’t work as well as they could, and the liver that works less than it should. The body that is pulled together by the strings of God and faith alike, I will never be able to thank Him enough for my life.

Because of these things that doctors have told me I should not be alive. These things that diagnose me to die. These are the things that the real world brings me, the things that help me to know what it’s like to have depth and reality to your character, not just your Instagram profile or your pretenders who you act with alike.

I never understood the boom of social media, but perhaps that’s because I live in a world where things take more precedence than an online persona. Still, I can find myself caught up within its grasp, but sometimes it’s all to easy to crawl out of its depths. All I need to do is not care what it thinks – or what others think – and it has no hold on me. The person that I want to be can simply be. The person that is simply me.

So as this laughter that rings in my head from so many years ago as tears fell, I won’t allow them to tell me how to live my life. Because, even though we may be different, I don’t look down on them as they looked down on me. It is simple character that everyone can see. And in the real world these things don’t matter much.

For me these little miracles, my heart they will always touch.

Me

I’m filled with joy to know these words that I write are valued. I’m grateful to know that I am gaining self-esteem. It’s been so long, it seems.

Hopefully small changes will coming soon. Hopefully for more readers of my words will there be more room. How I would love for one of my posts to garner much attention, I would rather have affection. Still, I wish to viral, in these little words I draw a spiral. But not down as it always seems to be, but an upward path for me. Simple simple and sweet, success it seems to be.

I know it is not all sunshine and rainbows, but I would sure love to see where this road goes.

In a harsh world and an even harsher mind, it’s something I’m delighted to find. For even these things that will potentially hurt if I gain fame to my name, I will never see it in vain. For to me it is a blessing, a miracle working to help my dreams come true.

To be a known writer is what I’ve worked so hard for, and I hope it happens soon rather than impatience of mine becoming more. In this little imaginary grove of trees, I can sit among the leaves and dream of ease here as I please.

Oh, how I dream to make a career in writing. But perhaps…it’s already happening.