I don't know how I would explain myself even if I could. What would anyone say to that question? Who are you really? Could we be honest? We know ourselves better than anyone else could but we are complete strangers all at the same time.
Who am I? What are my real motives? Are they pure like I would hope they would be? The answer to that would mean honesty with myself. Sometimes that's the hardest.
I know I can be messy. Even when I try to pick up or organize, five minutes later I'm sloppy again. I hate that part of me. Can't I get it together?
I don't exactly brush my hair every single day. Sometimes I simply just don't feel like it or feel I have more important things to do. Sometimes my hand just gets too tired pulling through the mess. On those days it dries in wind tossed knots.
Even when I bother with make-up, it looks good for about an hour until I forget I even have it on and accidently smear it off. It's almost like it was never meant for my lips or eyes.
Who am I?
I know sometimes when I look in the mirror I stare in wonder at the girl looking back at me. Who is the world seeing? Do they know everything she's been through? Can they see the little parts of her she has kept safe from cruelty and bitterness? Has she been able to keep her own bitterness away so it doesn't corrupt the rest of her? It can never make it's way to her heart. To her mind. Never. She has to stay steady and focus. Focus.
And sometimes I have to tell myself that. Repeat it like a mantra. Focus. Focus. Focus. Mind over matter.
I sometimes feel by looking at me I am passed over and blend. I am small and weak. I feel small a lot. I feel weak a lot. And maybe the rest of the world is right. Maybe...
But there are other times, good times that outweigh the bad. Times where I can't think about weakness. I clear my breath, steady my heart, and feel so strong.
Strong enough to take on this world. It is only at my fingertips. It is nothing. I feel strong enough to love. Strong enough to call something my own and to never give up on this life, even though for a moment it would be so easy. The easy way is never the best way. Never...
Because when you love someone it's never easy but it's so safe all at once and all in one resting moment I feel secure.
Maybe I like the gleam in his dark eyes, the determination on his face reverberating through his step, and how his jaw is terse and sets just right, dark brown hair uncaring. He smells like air and safety. He reminds me of the gray area between awake and asleep. Reality and fantasy.
Maybe I like the innocence of the child. Maybe I just stand starstruck in awe at the only thing left innocent in this world that spins to fast. The purity of the dark green in her eyes, brown specks blending, her imagination taking control, running rapid. She reminds me of autumn. And then his blue eyes flicker my way and he makes me understand the logic in the most illogical. He reminds me of spring. A breath of fresh air.
You see? I have found a reason for self preservation. For pure survival. And I also found ones I would easily die for.
And then my strengths become my weaknesses and it keeps me brave. It gives me something to look forward to. It gives me something to stand up for, and it is something absolutely necessary to my existence.
I don't trust people. Who? People in general. I always find myself searching for their motives. Some I can't look in the eye, some I can't even look at.
Dreams.
Dreams.
Speaking of dreams I sometimes dream that I am drowning. I float gracefully down, and down, and down, and I only fight when my lungs turn to fire. I dream I'm on a sinking ship. I look out small circular windows and see only dark blue ocean outside. I somehow always find my way out of the watery tomb just to find a trunk floating. I grab onto it for security and wait for the sharks to invade, swarm, and eventually pull me under. I gulp water and can't breathe. The lights above disappear slowly.
I feel the pain and fight the water. And then I wake up. Just like that. I wake up screaming and choking.
There were times I remember clearly where I would just want to sleep just so that I didn't have to feel pain, if only for a few hours. Sleeping came as a reprieve. The darkness wrapped me in it's arms and on the good nights my dreams would stay at bay.
I know. I've known pain. Loneliness used to be a close friend of mine. Fear has gripped it's wicked claws around my mind, disenabling me. And anxiety has brought it's blows to my chest. But I can admit to this because I have fought them. I refuse to let it own me. I fight clenched teeth, screaming into my pillow, red filling my eyes, and black bleeding into my mind. Until the light burns it all away.
Because simply...we create our own light. We create our own darkness, out own courage, and bravery. We create the part of ourselves that kicks on and says that we can pull through.
We make the choice to hope. To hold faith. To keep waking up when the sun rises and to walk even when it hurts and we feel that we can't.
we have to help ourselves in order for God to help us. We have to want it. To breathe it and taste it. We have to need it. We have to fight for it. Stand up and scream, clenched fists, thrashing and kicking, cock your gun, and draw your sword kind of fight. No one can do it for you. No one can do it for me.
So who am I?
Maybe someone else could tell you who I am, it's easier when you aren't looking from just one view out the window pane. And I guess when it's all said and done I just hope someone gets it right.
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