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.