What to do… What to do with someone who is lost and hurting so much? I can’t help the thoughts… Could I have done something to stop this? Did I do something to cause this? A little voice whispers in the back of my mind: “Yes, you could have, and yes, you did.” At moments like this, I feel like a cruel, twisted person. But truly, I never had such an intention. Were there signs that I missed or selectively ignored? Why do I feel personal guilt? I can only think its because I feel guilty…

What to do…

What to do with someone who is lost and hurting so much? I can’t help the thoughts… Could I have done something to stop this? Did I do something to cause this? A little voice whispers in the back of my mind: “Yes, you could have, and yes, you did.” At moments like this, I feel like a cruel, twisted person. But truly, I never had such an intention. Were there signs that I missed or selectively ignored? Why do I feel personal guilt? I can only think its because I feel guilty…

while exploring While exploring, I’ve found blogs of people from my past. People I met briefly or not very much at all, and I’ve found that they have deeper thoughts than I’d ever imagined. A boy who I’d always imagined as being cocky and confident, a bit shallow perhaps (I wouldn’t know), seems heartbroken and longing to simply not be alone anymore. He talks of love and love and love with a yearning that is painful and tender and so unexpected. A girl who I knew was colorful but didn’t entirely understand to what degree has turned out to be so full of life and inspiration that I’m amazed. All I can do is sit back and relish all the beauty she has to share and all the delights she has found in the world. A friend I thought was a good friend, now slightly removed, has written essays on movements I’ve never heard of and provided commentary on topics of academia. And while I’ve always been a little aware of this side, I’ve never seen how purely intellectual and so over my head his thoughts can be. Where does that put me? What does this mean? What compels others to follow me and my story with interest? Is it simply that they know me and are therefore curious or do I actually have more to offer?

while exploring

While exploring, I’ve found blogs of people from my past. People I met briefly or not very much at all, and I’ve found that they have deeper thoughts than I’d ever imagined. A boy who I’d always imagined as being cocky and confident, a bit shallow perhaps (I wouldn’t know), seems heartbroken and longing to simply not be alone anymore. He talks of love and love and love with a yearning that is painful and tender and so unexpected. A girl who I knew was colorful but didn’t entirely understand to what degree has turned out to be so full of life and inspiration that I’m amazed. All I can do is sit back and relish all the beauty she has to share and all the delights she has found in the world. A friend I thought was a good friend, now slightly removed, has written essays on movements I’ve never heard of and provided commentary on topics of academia. And while I’ve always been a little aware of this side, I’ve never seen how purely intellectual and so over my head his thoughts can be.

Where does that put me? What does this mean? What compels others to follow me and my story with interest? Is it simply that they know me and are therefore curious or do I actually have more to offer?

I feel strangely empowered…

I feel strangely empowered…

the progression Play. The first time was terrifying and mortifying. I never knew that I could feel such shame, such fear. The tears came and even after they were dried and gone, I could still feel them there. The second time I felt like I was dying. I felt so alone and broken. I thought to myself, “Never again.” And I made the mistake of letting my works go unspoken. Pause. Fast forward. Insert “Side B.” The first time was nerve wracking. I never knew I could feel such excitement, such anticipation. It was not ecstasy. It was not perfection. Clumsy and sweet and considerate. Gentle concentration. The second time I have since forgotten. And the same goes for the next time and the time after. But since then, everything is better. And most recently, it was fantastic, full of love and laughter. ___ I’ll never know if it was him or if it was me. I suspect it was a little bit of both of us. I do know though, that, without him, and with him, everything in the world is brighter and better.

the progression

Play.

The first time was terrifying and mortifying.
I never knew that I could feel such shame, such fear.
The tears came and even after they were dried and gone,
I could still feel them there.

The second time I felt like I was dying.
I felt so alone and broken.
I thought to myself, “Never again.”
And I made the mistake of letting my works go unspoken.

Pause.
Fast forward.
Insert “Side B.”

The first time was nerve wracking.
I never knew I could feel such excitement, such anticipation.
It was not ecstasy. It was not perfection.
Clumsy and sweet and considerate. Gentle concentration.

The second time I have since forgotten.
And the same goes for the next time and the time after.
But since then, everything is better.
And most recently, it was fantastic, full of love and laughter.

___

I’ll never know if it was him or if it was me. I suspect it was a little bit of both of us. I do know though, that, without him, and with him, everything in the world is brighter and better.

I remembered today Just what it meant To rise and fall In the single breath Of another’s word. But upon reflection, I could not help but wonder: Why is my truth so easily blurred? Why should a stranger dictate my self worth? When really, yes really, I should just stand up, Stand up straight and tall, With shoulders back and head held high, And never again look down in fear of the fall. 

I remembered today
Just what it meant
To rise and fall
In the single breath
Of another’s word.

But upon reflection, I could not help but wonder:

Why is my truth so easily blurred?
Why should a stranger dictate my self worth?
When really, yes really,
I should just stand up,
Stand up straight and tall,
With shoulders back and head held high,
And never again look down in fear of the fall. 

lavenderfoxes:

(Source)
confirmation It’s weird to have everything I’ve ever thought in the back of my mind confirmed. She is exactly as I thought she was. 

confirmation

It’s weird to have everything I’ve ever thought in the back of my mind confirmed. She is exactly as I thought she was. 

to be brave What does it mean to be brave? Is it the willingness to take on an unforeseen or frightening challenge? Is it the act or is it the intent? Where is the line between bravery and folly? Or am I thinking of courage? "You were so brave." I didn’t feel brave. I felt mildly confused and snarky and a little bitchy. I felt somewhat aggravated. I felt an obligation. I knew what I had to do. So I did it. I can’t imagine that I would have done anything else. I held his head in my hands and shouted. Into his ear. Against the roar of the dance floor. I knelt on the ground. I shouted everything and anything. Not much of what I said made sense. All I knew was that I would stay as long as I could. Do as much as I could. Was I brave? I have never considered myself brave. I have never considered any part of my life brave. Have I ever been brave? I know I did the right thing. Is that bravery? Was it me or was it her? Perhaps I seemed brave because it seemed frightening to her. Perhaps this is external. I should ask… Regardless though, now my mind has spun off in a different direction and begun to race. What does it mean to be brave? And have I ever been brave… And do I want to be brave? Am I brave?

to be brave

What does it mean to be brave? Is it the willingness to take on an unforeseen or frightening challenge? Is it the act or is it the intent? Where is the line between bravery and folly? Or am I thinking of courage?

"You were so brave."

I didn’t feel brave. I felt mildly confused and snarky and a little bitchy. I felt somewhat aggravated. I felt an obligation.

I knew what I had to do. So I did it.

I can’t imagine that I would have done anything else.

I held his head in my hands and shouted. Into his ear. Against the roar of the dance floor. I knelt on the ground. I shouted everything and anything. Not much of what I said made sense. All I knew was that I would stay as long as I could. Do as much as I could.

Was I brave?

I have never considered myself brave.

I have never considered any part of my life brave.

Have I ever been brave?

I know I did the right thing.

Is that bravery?

Was it me or was it her?

Perhaps I seemed brave because it seemed frightening to her.

Perhaps this is external.

I should ask…

Regardless though, now my mind has spun off in a different direction and begun to race. What does it mean to be brave? And have I ever been brave… And do I want to be brave?

Am I brave?