Far too many people let the light leave their eyes long before they die. Their soul shrivels up and rattles around behind their empty faces making half expressions, ghosts of the things they used to feel.
Sometimes I like to let my body go still and allow myself feel the boundary of my skin. From my core to the furthest edge of my fingertips I occupy a body, connected mind and flesh by millions of electrical impulses firing away. Amongst those impulses exists every moment of my life. Every word I have ever read or written, every dream that ever flooded my sleepy mind, every lyric and the music to every song that has ever graced my ears is contained somewhere in the intricate web that is my brain.
When I think about this, it puts so much into perspective. Being a thinking, breathing thing with the gift and curse of the human condition is as beautiful as it is tragic. We are a compliation of experiences, electrified– walking, talking, seeing, remebering the good things and learning from the bad everyday. We get to call that life. When I remeber how incredible that is, I can shrink the self induced stresses that make life more difficult than it needs to be; I can focus on not just being happy, but being awe inspired.
If I had a daughter I would tell her sweetie, it’s okay to be better than the boys at all the games they play, even if they try to bring you down. Because darling you were built to climb both trees and social ladders, and both of those things matter for little girls, not just the boys. And you can have a silent cry and not apologize for taking up my time or putting tears upon my shoulder. And when you want to play with dolls or little action figures or look at dusty pictures, I will always have the time. If you want to light a fire and cuddle right beside it, I will hold you tight even if I get too warm. Or if you want to be alone, then I will let you roam and discover secret places on your own so you can hide there. When you want to wrestle, climb all over me and half the time I’ll even let you win. Honey you can be a princess and a warrior. You can be a poet and a warlord too. You don’t have to be afraid of closet monsters, because the real monsters will be afraid of you.
Some people never learn. They never let themselves move on from what hurt them. I don’t think it’s masochism–no; I don’t think it’s so simple as that.
The girl doesn’t know how to love herself.
She clings to the delusions of the past, things that hurt, not because she wants them. She knows it could never be the same as the thought they once were, but she refuses to let go. She returns for pain because she thinks she deserves it. She does things, and says things, to hurt what she once held dear in her heart because she thinks she deserves the pain she gives. But it’s not her fault. I wish I could tell her it’s just not her fault. There’s nothing I could say though. It’s a boundary I can’t cross because of who I am to her; in her eyes I am a wrecker–a shatterer of beautiful delusions and the catalyst of her downfall. Only anonymity could hide that, but faceless influence only goes so far.
I see myself in her struggle often times. The anger, the hopelessness, the half-hearted love interests I knew would crash to the ground. The difference is that I learned what it meant not just to feel alone, but to truly be alone–what it meant to be self-reliant for food, money, transportation, entertainment, even company. It was in the abyss that I was able to understand that some things must be. That they hurt, but they shaped me into something better than before. That things which ended were meant to end, and that it’s okay. It’s all okay. I was hungry, but that was okay–I could drink tea and my belly would feel warm and full. I was lonely, but that was okay–I could read stories and quench my thirst for conversations with ones that had been written by a masterful mind. I did not have somebody to love, but that was okay–I learned to love myself, and I knew someone to love would follow. And it did.
I just had to let go of the past and the pain, and embrace myself and my surroundings.
But I can’t tell her that because she hates me. God does she hate me.
The universe is mostly nothing. Then it is Hydrogen, Helium, Oxygen, Nitrogen, Carbon, etc. combining into vast clouds of gases. Cloud that will condense into massive body of pure energy–massive glowing celestial spheres that burn longer than we can comprehend. They end with a force that will both ruin and create, purging the dense of materials out into the emptiness to become something new. The stars’ guts may float among other bits of rock and ice in an asteroid field, or be pulled into the roiling furnace of another star or they might bind together and become so dense they crush themselves into a sphere to create a planet.
Every particle in your body was once brewing in the heart of a star for millions of years. They hurtled through space and time to become a part of Earth. They lived and died to converge into you, now. You are a precious thing, defying all odds of existence and yet here you are… breathing, thinking, feeling–and that is beautiful. So don’t worry yourself with damaging thoughts and unnecessary stresses. Revel in your own existence. Celebrate it every day with those you love in everything you do. That is a life worth living.
People are too quick to assume they know what casts the shadow on the cave wall–So proud to assert convenient truths that fit perfectly into the delusion forged in the mind.
They are so easy to read when they revolve around themselves, too selfish to comprehend the fact that they simply do not know. It’s so painfully predictable. These are not the minds of thinkers.
The foolishness was entertaining for a spell, but now I am unimpressed. A dull read is not worth my time.
I am the shadow on the wall and the fire that casts it. But now I extinguish and leave the fools to ponder the darkness.