The Alcove
Sometimes you feel like you're lying, but you're not.
"oh! I used to have a Ford ranger!"
"I grew up listening to that band!"
"I went to Mike's train land all the time when I was a little girl!"
" I used to wear overalls and clogs, heck, I still do!"
All these little things that one could make up or fabricate to fit in or be accepted. We want so badly to be accepted and loved. We tell so many lies or stories that sometimes, we can't remember what really happened.
Thank goodness for photos and family member, otherwise I may feel crazy. Like I imagined it all, but I didn't. Everything really happened. My life was real.
Before I knew a soul I know now, I really did run barefoot everywhere. I really did do Irish dance to Flogging Molly in our living room. I really did love trains and ponies and trees and foxes. I wish I could record my youth and present it to everyone meet, to validate myself. To ensure I don't sound like a thousand others. But I can't. You believe me and see it all, or you don't. I cannot convince you that I am a good person or that I am not devious. I can't tell you that I really always mean well. And don't you dare tell me that you know me already or that you have me figured out. You don't.
I am not a puzzle piece to be fit into a matching slot. I am not to be surveyed or labeled or interviewed or decided upon. I am a human, same as the rest. I hereby declare that in support of myself not being judged, I will never again pre-judge and assume anything about anyone. Because, damnit, WE DON'T KNOW. WE DON'T.
At 7:47 am tomorrow, it will be three months until I turn 23. 23 LONG and SHORT years of living, breathing and pure existence.
Once, someone told me lots of lovely things about myself, about my beauty, about my talents and my soul, and then they denied having said a word of it. I believed for a while that I imagined it all, that I had made it up to comfort myself.
BUT, I hadn't. It was real. So were those endless hours of making daffodil crowns and listening to Garrison Keillor. I lived it. Thank GOD.
Sometimes we just need validation. Sometimes, even if we love being alone, we need to know we AREN'T alone. Sometimes, someone can feel a thousand shades of blue all at once, and still be okay.
Tonight, as I sat beneath the alcove and listened to a heart-heavy friend play a tune, I almost pinched myself, to ensure I was really living this strange and movie-perfect life. A life of late-night jams on the front porch of an historic building and holding a bottle of unopened champagne. A life of talking to a few close friends about the universe and hearts and lyrics and soul-rendering songs.
It's all so hard and complicated and we have so many battles to pick and chose. So many hours to waste or use to their fullest. Life seems so short and long and our lives seem impossible and impossibly easy and fortunate. I am telling this to you all because I simply NEED to. I need to be heard or I may explode from keeping it all in, my ENDLESS thinking is painful. I get sick of pulling my boyfriend, friends and family down with my constant philosophizing, so I do it here, because if you get sick of my thinking, you can close the page. You don't have to read on.
And, if you want to be heard, do it. I am here to listen, as well. I can always listen.
Oh, and remember, sometimes it's okay to realize that being alone...we weren't really made to be all alone...If you need someone, don't be afraid to ask for them.
Slainte
BRM
"oh! I used to have a Ford ranger!"
"I grew up listening to that band!"
"I went to Mike's train land all the time when I was a little girl!"
" I used to wear overalls and clogs, heck, I still do!"
All these little things that one could make up or fabricate to fit in or be accepted. We want so badly to be accepted and loved. We tell so many lies or stories that sometimes, we can't remember what really happened.
Thank goodness for photos and family member, otherwise I may feel crazy. Like I imagined it all, but I didn't. Everything really happened. My life was real.
Before I knew a soul I know now, I really did run barefoot everywhere. I really did do Irish dance to Flogging Molly in our living room. I really did love trains and ponies and trees and foxes. I wish I could record my youth and present it to everyone meet, to validate myself. To ensure I don't sound like a thousand others. But I can't. You believe me and see it all, or you don't. I cannot convince you that I am a good person or that I am not devious. I can't tell you that I really always mean well. And don't you dare tell me that you know me already or that you have me figured out. You don't.
I am not a puzzle piece to be fit into a matching slot. I am not to be surveyed or labeled or interviewed or decided upon. I am a human, same as the rest. I hereby declare that in support of myself not being judged, I will never again pre-judge and assume anything about anyone. Because, damnit, WE DON'T KNOW. WE DON'T.
At 7:47 am tomorrow, it will be three months until I turn 23. 23 LONG and SHORT years of living, breathing and pure existence.
Once, someone told me lots of lovely things about myself, about my beauty, about my talents and my soul, and then they denied having said a word of it. I believed for a while that I imagined it all, that I had made it up to comfort myself.
BUT, I hadn't. It was real. So were those endless hours of making daffodil crowns and listening to Garrison Keillor. I lived it. Thank GOD.
Sometimes we just need validation. Sometimes, even if we love being alone, we need to know we AREN'T alone. Sometimes, someone can feel a thousand shades of blue all at once, and still be okay.
Tonight, as I sat beneath the alcove and listened to a heart-heavy friend play a tune, I almost pinched myself, to ensure I was really living this strange and movie-perfect life. A life of late-night jams on the front porch of an historic building and holding a bottle of unopened champagne. A life of talking to a few close friends about the universe and hearts and lyrics and soul-rendering songs.
It's all so hard and complicated and we have so many battles to pick and chose. So many hours to waste or use to their fullest. Life seems so short and long and our lives seem impossible and impossibly easy and fortunate. I am telling this to you all because I simply NEED to. I need to be heard or I may explode from keeping it all in, my ENDLESS thinking is painful. I get sick of pulling my boyfriend, friends and family down with my constant philosophizing, so I do it here, because if you get sick of my thinking, you can close the page. You don't have to read on.
And, if you want to be heard, do it. I am here to listen, as well. I can always listen.
Oh, and remember, sometimes it's okay to realize that being alone...we weren't really made to be all alone...If you need someone, don't be afraid to ask for them.
Slainte
BRM
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