Month: January 2015

“I’m not like those other girls”

We said girls put their heart on their sleeves
And let everything get to them
I said all this 6 times out of 10
While shuffling my feet
Thinking how many times I had changed my disposition
How I hung on words like ‘love’
And sunk into my skin things such as ‘resistance is futile’
Refuting change is futile
We said that respect derives from appearance and how one presents oneself
Yet once again
We tried to balance our weight shifting from one hip to the next
While,
Quoting how we can not speak about one another without fully knowing what was in us
What could possibly come out of us
Hatred
An infectious lust for having the last word
With the ability to change it at any time
For any person
For any one moment that had suddenly cast our demeanor
We said in between incomplete conversations
That girls wear their heart on their sleeves
And you and I are one of them.

The slump gene

We have immense desire to equate our happiness to formulas, drawn out venn diagrams of how good things are a result of x or y. The most salivating dream any human being has is to know what comes before the time has or the will to move on has.
Self-loathing has engineered the human brain to succumb that any moment of time is inevitable of lasting forever. Now I say that with the realization of perils in the world and oppression beyond imaginable. *Though, the people who have had nothing or have lost greatly carry their burdens with hope that this is not forever.
For some reason, it takes courage to admit that I cannot know what brings me the satisfaction of being content but remaining stagnant allows this self-loathing ‘gene’ to activate.

Despite all of this,
It’s those who have seen various glimpses of myself that state if you’re going to go through your 20’s get your damn head of the sand.

What does the future look like and how do we get there?

When I think about what the future entails, I reflect on writing grade school papers titled ‘what do I want to be when I grow up’. Now the certain question that immediately follows that is ‘How do I get there?’. It’s not a simple task to take on planning your life, highlighting the extremities of it and weighing how much of what we daydream can possibly take solid form. From the wishy washy articles of praising oneself from taking life by the reins and grabbing the bullhorns yelling “it is easy to take charge”, can be absolutely unrealistic.

I could make the many people who have known me my stretch of living in two decades proud by adhering to bits of myself that I admire and stowing away the parts I despise. However, the most comforting thing is to know that one can not possibly know everything, you can not plan life down to the moment. It is all by chance, I say that with the thought of quickly backspacing that last clause. Our parents instill in us you can not possibly live up to the expectation of making those around you supportive of all your decisions, it’s the ones that make people uncomfortable or slightly curl the corner of the mouth that you’ve decided to do x and not y.

I’ve decided to move half way across the USA with hope that I can finish the parts of myself that I have left fraying at the seams, allowing them to disintegrate over time in my hands. It takes intentional effort to upkeep the things that make you feel that  life is not a small, four cornered shoe box. For awhile, people go through the motions of right now it is “okay” but staying consecutively where one is can be both structural and damaging.  My hopes are that I can find a healthy balance between achieving goals and taking care of myself better than I have been.  It’s easier said than done to say you are doing the things you’ve always looked forward to as a kid. However, it’s a journey I’m willing to unlearn mannerisms that limit growth. The past year has been a continual battle with learning what ones actual self is. For now what I know is that the future looks like a foggy mirror, and the cheesy metaphor states that I’ll have to drive to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

When you’re in your 20’s or barely entering it, one has to learn what it means to be brave even if it causes self-doubt.

Sometimes I like awake during restless nights wondering if the nine year old girl who wrote religiously until her fingers would hurt would be proud of me. I wonder if she thinks the world is really that minuscule compared to the world she has envisioned in her head. Though, there are times where it’s not too late to become this idealistic image of what we acclaimed to grow up as but realize it is just as good because it’s real.