Worthwhile

Sometimes the things that scare us the most yield the best rewards.

I am learning that improvement is a constant thing in our lives, the opportunity to better ourselves is one that should--under no circumstance--be disregarded. We live for a reason. I've always believed that we live inversely, that rather than going from young to old we should go from old to young. This was something I greatly contemplated and concluded to be a definite in my life. I was wrong.

We live from young to old for a reason. In youth, we are well-equipped with the carefree mentality, the incredible focus on simplicity, the utter love for life that is rarely found in our older years. As we grow, we are faced with challenges, responsibilities, realities, all chipping away at the life-view of our youth and forming a more ill-advised perception of this world.

The challenge of living is to hold true to the youthful life we are meant to live while facing the erosion of time, progress, growth.

We are given an incredible opportunity. We are given this time period of a life, and the world to go with it. We're given the wonders and mysteries that we take for granted. We are given this temporary home, a chance to gain some experience and perspective on what really matters. We are blessed.

We so easily lose sight of who we are, and what our purpose is. We are put here to live. Sometimes we lose sight of not only our purpose, but what we are given as well. In each day, we are given miracles.

For each one of us, the world turns. The sun rises and sets. The flowers bloom and the snow falls. For us, this happens. The wind blows, the birds chirp, the clouds sway, the grass grows. For us. The stars in the sky exist so that we can wish, the moon that accompanies them so we can dream. The renewal of spring exists for us, so we can find hope. The cold of winter centers us, allows us to see that life is balanced. There is bad in our life, so that we can truly appreciate the good. There is pain and suffering to demand that we look forward and see better days. Nothing happens without reason, it is a part of this incredible experience we are given.

I am learning every day the beauty and opportunity this experience of ours can hold. I love that I will never know everything in its entirety, that throughout each day of my life---I will have to live.

free-falling

Flying down the driveway, wind breezing through my hair, pedal faster, no disaster, anywhere.

Care-free, look at me soar, legs moving faster, steer left, steer right, avoid the bumps in sight, and hold on tight.

Suddenly the world shifts, and I begin to lose control, shaky now my legs brake, and I fall.

Wipe-out, wreck, lose-it-all just to get back up again, skinned up knees and bleeding elbow, smile so wide, so wide.

Can't you see? Our lives are centered around the moments when we take a risk, and lose it. The first time we try to crawl, and nose-dive into the carpet. The moment, we try to walk, and fall back down again. Playing tag in the backyard, no cares in the world, trip over a tree-root, and it hurts so bad. But, there's no time for that.

We get up again. We shake it off and get back to living. When we're young and restless, we know there's no time for crying. So we go, go, go, cause we don't know the weight of the world. And we live, live, live, cause we don't know the burden of struggles.

We grow up. We're informed, now. We know that the world isn't this picture-perfect-reality. We've learned what it feels like to be hurt, and, we've learned how to hold a grudge. We were taught to spite, to hate, to differentiate--between wrong and right, between good and bad, between who we should be and who we are. We were taught to judge, to assess a situation, a person, a lifestyle, everything we come across. Yeah, we inherited the cynicism.

Someone showed us that there are people who better than us, and people we're better than. Someone explained that there's a lot of bad, and that caution is the greatest protection.

We learned to yield, abandon the fast-forward lifestyle. We learned to feel, abandoned the live-life attitude. We learned to be, acceptable members of a community. We learned responsibility, political correctness, rules and regulations. We grew up, to become someone we never really understood. We look back now, and see how good we had it, before they changed us, before this happened.

We once knew just what life was made of. We once saw the good in everything. They closed our minds, they pulled us in from floating with the stars. They brought us down, they set our feet upon the ground. And we accept it. We don't fight for the life we know is better than this. We settle into our patterns, our traditions, our reasoning for being boring. We call ourselves practical, but we're just whipped by the societal bounds.

There was once a time when we had faith in the world. We trusted our friends, and our family, and anyone we met. They protected us then, but maybe we were protecting them. Giving them a reason to believe that they were right, that the life of a child is always temporary.

Time, how does that work out anyway? When we're young, there's so much, and we keep ourselves straight. But then as we go on, the pressure comes, and. We can feel it, building around us. All of these commitments, a need for sleep we didn't have when we were young, time's gone. It's wasting, but we're wasting it. Focusing our energy on all the wrong things, the hate and the judgment, and the grudges. Maybe we can't fight it, maybe it's human nature, maybe it's an unbreakable cycle of tradition. But maybe, just maybe, we can be more than we see.

I want to expect more of myself. I want to be more than what I've found around me. I want to work my way back to childhood ideology. That's the secret, that's the way to live my life. I want this, I want that, I want to be that person. The one who, gets back up. The one who, trusts. The one who, opens mind and heart to those that others won't. I want to be the opposite of everything that life has taught me. I want to be the kind of person no one would expect me to be. I want to be remembered. I want to be unique, and good. I want to apply the life of childhood to the everyday circumstances that I know face. What's so wrong with that?

Why shouldn't I demand of myself more than what others settle for?

That's where I stand.

This is who I am.

Beautiful contradiction

We are Starburst.

Strong, but fragile. Brave, but fearful. Stubborn, but giving in. Full, but empty. Hard, but soft. Right, but wrong. Old, but young. Found, but lost. Crying, but happy.

Contradiction.

We are what we are and what we are not, what we've been and what we will be, what we see and what we don't see, who we want and who we want not to be. We're never one thing, black and white standard existence. We are vibrant and colorful. We are the colors of the rainbow. We are different, and the same. We are everything we could be, and everything we can't be. There are no lines, there are no boundaries. We are. There is no thing we are not. In living, we are everything.

Every range of emotion, every side of an argument, every stage of progression, we are.

Through days and years, through heartbeats and breaths, we encompass a totality of events we attribute to 'life.'

Shooting star, falling to earth, make a wish, make a wish, more than this.

We are, we are, we are--alive. We are breathing and singing and living a life.

Everything that's ever been and everything that will be is somehow linked to some event in our life, generally speaking. We can all sympathize or empathize or any range of 'thizing' we may see fit.

We can take the content matter of another's life and transform it into our own understanding, based on our own experience.

That we can do. And we do it every day. We do a lot of things. We become human beings.

And few of us fight to break free of the normalcy imposed by society, take a moment to stop and think, some of these things just aren't quite right. How we live life, who we are and what we do. It's alright though, it's all different for me and you---but the same. Contradictory reality regime.

Lifeline

Have you ever taken the time to look at your hands?

Thank them, shake them, wring them free of responsibility?

Because those hands, they'll serve you well years and years into the future.

They'll be your guide through the darkest times, leading you, helping you feel your way through.

They help you up after you've been knocked down, flat against the ground, holding all your weight.

Those hands, that you so readily take for granted, they are your life.

They've wiped your tears and held your fullest laughs, they've etched your scars and shown you the world.

You've gotten them dirty to clean them off, used them for bad and for good, hurt them and healed them.

Those hands pair with your lovers, those hands allow you to brush the hair aside, to feel his face when you gaze into his eyes.

Those hands will allow you to hold your first-born child, they will discipline them, and they will embrace them with tenderness.

Those hands have shifted from a shaky pencil to the sure curve of cursive, speeding through the keys on a keyboard, texting and writing and communicating.

Those hands have scrawled simple figures, oval-rounded heads and stick arms, advanced on to replication and idealization, further to expression.

Those hands have been small, then larger, have held the weight of the world and more, have shaken when afraid and fumbled when unsure.

They have been shoved in pockets, swathed in gloves, hidden under polish and jewelry, clipped and snipped and handled roughly.

They helped you to crawl, and endured falls as you learned to walk, steadied your spastic legs and guided your curious face.

They gripped the hand of your mother, your father, they pushed and poked at your siblings, they grew with you and learned as you do--right, wrong.

They have proven points and started fights, they have occupied your time, they have been set aside--so poised, waiting for you to beckon them once again.

They have touched a broken friend to give comfort only they could give, clung to your torso at the end of a nightmare, rested so perfectly over your heart as you recognize the country you love.

They have been used, abused, neglected, hated, underrated, unappreciated, mistaken, blamed, shamed, and yet they stay with you--for life, and for death.

They are the trials of time and the stories of life, the good and the bad and the forgotten, the proud and the guilty and the indifference, the all that was, is, and will be.

They are clasped in prayer, begging the mercy of something you can't quite understand, seeking the help you can't seem to find, needing something or someone more than your life.

They are the actions of hatred and anger and pain, of love and caring and hope, the subordinate victims of mind and heart, loyal and loving and grateful.

They are unique and strong, similar and fragile, links to the outside world and the people in it, the things we hold dear to our heart.

They are us.

Crayola taught me something

I am not you , nor will I ever be .

I do not fit in this puzzle of regularity ,

though you try to push and squeeze , bend and break , you cannot mold me into something

I

am

not .

My heart beats , thump-thump - as yours ; yet there is something different

a different attribution to the thud

a unique structure to my own cells , a diverse awakening to the blood rushing through my veins -

we call this personality , character , so many words to describe a single fact :

we are all different .

And me ?

I am different too . Different from you , and from anyone else , and that is me . I like me .

And I like you , being you , because - you aren't me .

We are all brightly colored crayons , tinted one way or another , some of us chipped , broken , taped together time and time again .

To each their own , shade . Color . Disposition , inquisition , existence .

ME , that is all I know . I cannot know you or the reasons you do as you do or why you are a different color than me - but God gave me empathy , or is it sympathy , or apathy , so many -thys to describe a human understanding that we just know ;

and I can try to understand your life , your hopes and dreams and fears and I can assure you that it will be alright .

My sister bought me a crayon maker for Christmas . Melting , mixing , recreating new colors and schemes and realities , a mixture of one and another , as lives melted into each other .

You , and me , and everyone that you or I will ever know or see or come across .

We may be a single shade , a single color , but we are impacted by so many others , and so many others impact us , that by the end of a well-lived life we see nothing but an explosion of hues , a combination of lights and darks , friends and enemies , hope and fear , love and hate .

We are not perfect .

You and I , we are not flawless .

But , God , we're beautiful .

Everything happens for a reason

            Someone once told me that I was a pitiful creature that contributed nothing to society. Not just someone, though, my best friend. It served a pivotal role in helping me to become who I am.
            She was right. And I don’t mean that in the self-pitying sense that I would have so quickly embraced at that time in my life. I mean, quite frankly, that I was too centered on myself to be worthwhile to anyone.
            I know now that that was, at least in some ways, typical of an adolescent. I know that I endured certain hardships that perhaps amplified my self-pity, as well as my self-loathing. I understand that, and I find myself expressing appreciation that this person dared to confront me with the truth that none other would.
            From that point forward, I figured out how to cope. I learned how to deal with my own problems in a more personal way, rather than searching for some solace in the relationships that I had formed. This confrontation helped me to develop a great self-awareness and to further understand how to interact with others.
            I am still far from socially sound. I mean this in the sense that I struggle, at times, with social interaction. I am anxious when it comes to holding conversations, and certain social situations terrify me. I have, however, successfully found my way into a committed and beautiful relationship. I have a number of people who I consider friends, and who consider me at least somehow pertinent to their life at this time.
            I have done well as a student, regardless of the number of presentations I’ve had to give. I have come to understand myself more fully and rationally than I ever could have as an adolescent in the environment that I was provided. I am still irrational at times, I suppose we all are. All in all, though, I’ve found my way. I have a lot of potential and a number of opportunities before me. Whether I fulfill that potential, well, we’ll just have to see.
            My point, then, is that sometimes the most hurtful things help to shape us into better people. Sometimes we spend a lot of time suffering before we become the strong, well-situated people that will succeed in life. Every person has a past, and everyone has a secret that would shock the people that know them now. I, personally, have a few. If people knew where I had been, it would surprise them that I am who I am today.
            Life has a funny way of shaping us through the most peculiar circumstances. Don’t worry about what’s to come. Just have faith that everything that’s happening is happening for a reason.

How it feels to fly

I remember when I was just a child pumping my legs at recess, trying to reach new heights and destinations, believing whole-heartedly that if I worked hard enough I could reach the sun.
            There was nothing more freeing than the way the world whizzed past me, whispering sweet-nothings in my ear. “You will be great,” the wind told me. “Believe in yourself,” the sunbeams wrote on my arms.
            It’s safe to say that childhood me was more carefree and open to living. As I grew, I closed myself off and drowned myself in my inner monologue. I was not great, I could not be great. I accepted all too gracefully the words that people shared with me. Those who were close to me turned into the greatest of enemies, and I had never felt more alone.
            I was afraid to fly, for a long time. I think we all go through a time in our life when we let the bad things keep us down—I’m told that’s the point of gravity. But I also like to think that after a while, we get tired of the earth sticking to our feet. It’s hard to walk when you’ve got all that extra weight, just keeping you from doing what you want to do.
            And maybe when we get to that point, we learn to love flying again. We look at the world differently—not mirroring the past, where what could go wrong did go wrong, but as a separate point in our lives. We realize that who we were isn’t who we are, and that the people who hurt us once aren’t around to hurt us again. We learn that life is a risk, and you can either cling to our gravity, holding us down or you can dare to do something…well, a little crazy.
            See, this world is something that we don’t have figured out and we never will have completely figured out. It’s all a little more temporary than we like to convince ourselves, and we’re never as safe as we feel. Anything could happen at any moment. This reality that we tend to avoid is extremely terrifying for two reasons. 1) We don’t know what to expect and we can’t prepare for all of the things that could go wrong. 2) There is the opportunity for us to fulfill potential we didn’t even know we have.
            I think we’re all meant to fly. We just have to be brave enough to lift our feet off the ground when it matters most. Then, we’ll soar.

How do you handle hate?

It’s really difficult to deal with someone hating you.
I like to think that I’m a pretty fair-minded person. I’m kind. I have nothing but respect for people. But I get tired of people who believe they have a right to disrespect me based on my sexuality. It’s exhausting, to always be the better person. It wears me out to smile and say that I support the right for someone to say that I’m going to hell because of who I love. I believe wholeheartedly that religious freedom is important. I believe that freedom of speech is important. And I try so hard to treat people with the same respect that I would like to receive.
But how far can you go before it’s not being the better person but letting someone walk all over you? Where is the line between being respectful and being submissive?
It’s hard. I’m always struggling to figure out where I stand. I have to watch my step and my back at the same time. Because I can do everything right and still be the target of hatred and anger.
People who don’t even know me hate me with a wrath that I can’t even direct towards my greatest enemies. They wouldn’t hesitate to take my confidence, my rights, my love, my life. They wouldn’t think twice about jumping me in a dark alley because I’m comfortable enough in my own skin to hold my partner’s hand.
The fact of the matter is, I can’t really be comfortable in my own skin. I can’t be too much like myself, because the moment I do someone will find a way to remind me that I am a hindrance to them. They’ll remind me that my very existence is detrimental to their life, even if they don’t know me. It’s all over the internet. It’s in the news, it’s embedded in our society. We can’t escape it. I can’t escape it.
So how do you deal with that? With the words people hurl at your back when they think you can’t hear them, with the threats of people you’ve never met, with the hatred of hundreds of people who don’t like you because you’re you?
How do you deal with the hatred of love?
For all the suffering in the world, there is also overcoming.
It’s okay to be human. It’s okay to hurt, to be angry, to cry and scream and make mistakes. But what’s most important is to remember who you are. Even if I can’t be my true self all the time, I know who that true self is. And there’s always a part of that in who I am. There’s always a part of me in me.
Overcome.

Just be.

            I am a firm believer that the little things matter. When I’m feeling bad and someone smiles at me, it lifts my spirits. A simple text message wishing me well or someone asking how my day went makes a huge difference. What’s even more rewarding, though, are little acts of kindness for strangers. When I first heard about random acts of kindness, it really resonated with me. I love giving to people and making their day better, and I find it even more rewarding if it’s an anonymous act.

            When I receive no recognition for my kindness, I feel that it’s more real. The act isn’t something I’ve done as a means of influencing how others perceive me, but something that I did simply because I could and because it would make someone else smile. Increasingly, I love being anonymous. It takes away the burden of who I’m supposed to be and what others might think of me and simply allows me to exist. It’s funny to me, that in a sense of invisibility I am able to truly express myself, especially when so many fight against invisibility and strive so vehemently to be heard.

            What it really comes down to, I believe, is confining approval and support and judgment to yourself, and yourself alone. If I am able to fulfilled from the things I do, regardless of what other people say or think, then that’s something pretty powerful. I guess anonymity is a bridge that helps you become that kind of person. You take the time to be yourself based on your motivations and desires, and you figure out who you are and what you want in life. Once you have that stronger sense of self, it’s considerably easier to take it into the world. It makes it easier to stand up for what you believe in, it makes it easier to disregard the judgment and disapproval of others, it just makes it easier to live your life.

            So, I do random acts of kindness, sometimes. I don’t do it because I want to be recognized as a good person, I don’t do it because I’m trying to fulfill some role or stereotype, I do it because I like making people smile. I like the thought that a simple act can change someone’s life entirely, that just doing something nice for someone else is—in some small way—changing the world. We all have one life. I don’t want to waste mine trying to see what other people think or what they believe—I want to live it as myself, making the world a better place.

Who am I?

                I’m not your average 21-year-old. I don’t like alcohol—it makes my heart race and makes me really hot; I don’t like feeling out of control. I don’t enjoy partying and I love to read. Children’s books and coloring makes me happy. I enjoy taking photographs and listening to music. I’ve written poems since the first time I was confronted with something I didn’t understand.

                I don’t know you, but I’d like to. I’d like to hear your story, to offer you some advice, to smile with you and cry with you. Maybe that naïve, to believe that people can connect so intimately through a computer screen, but I’ve always had my head up in the clouds.

                I’ve done a lot of thinking these past years, I guess we all do around this age—or at least that’s what my psych professors say. This is the time that we determine who we are and what the rest of our life is going to be. The thing is, I don’t know who I am. I don’t know where I’m going. Sometimes, I don’t even know how I’ll make it to tomorrow.

                John Lennon said “When I was 5 years old, my mother always told me that happiness was the key to life. When I went to school, they asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I wrote down ‘happy.’ They told me I didn’t understand the assignment, and I told them they didn’t understand life.”

                I want to find something that is going to make me happy, and I’m working on that. I’ve got a great girl that makes me happy, and I can only hope that I’ll find a great job that makes me happy. But even more than happiness, I want to change the world.

                I look around and see all of these people around me, and it amazes me that we’re each these beautifully unique creatures. Then I think about all of the hate and the violence, I think about all of these amazing people who don’t think they’re good enough and my heart aches. When I grow up, I want to be happy. But I also want to share that happiness with others. I want to make someone smile every morning, I want to make them feel special, I want to remind them of their worth. That’s my plan to change the world…through sharing my happiness and demonstrating kindness to all of these people. Who knows, maybe it’ll spark a movement.