“I raise up my voice—not so I can shout, but so that those without a voice can be heard…we cannot succeed when half of us are held back.”
Another one bites the dust. A potential companion swept under the rug by their own hand and their own broom.
What do I do?
What do I say?
What do I radiate that makes me not fit?
Some may say I am not pretty enough. At least not under this makeup.
Some may say I am not thin enough. At least not under these clothes.
Some may say I am too intense. When I haven’t taken my meds
Some may say I am too strong-willed. When I speak unashamedly.
Perhaps I am simply too loud.
How long have I been numb to my own insecurities? How long have I been bowing down to the pressure of ‘not good enough?’
Too long. Too long.
I am here. I am breathing.
My body is unique. It has marks, and bumps, and bruises, but there is no ONE like mine. My gift.
My voice is strong. My laughter fills up the room and reminds those around me that I choose happiness. My gift.
My emotions bring me colour. I have looked in the mirror and asked myself if I feel too much. I feel just the right amount. The question becomes acceptance, becomes love. My gift.
From this day forth I don’t apologize for the gifts I have been given, not even to myself.
I simply pass my gifts to others.
I am sitting alone. Drenched in acoustic melody. Why am I feeling discontented?
“Don’t be tempted by the shiny apple. Don’t you eat of a bitter fruit. Hunger only for a taste of justice. Hunger only for a world of truth”
Where is the justice? What is the truth?
We scream until we cannot scream any longer! Looking around. One corner there is corruption, one corner there is thirst, and yet another, abuse. Stay positive they say. Face this ugliness with a giant fake smile plastered above one’s neck. Maybe we will forget. Maybe blissful ignorance will seep once again into our pores.
We cannot idly stand by. We cannot idly stand by and pretend. Close our eyes, sew them shut and broaden the plastic and intoxicated grin… Where are the drums to beat as we stomp? Where is the horn to blow as we march upon the field? Together. March with our hands held up high, declaring: “This is not good enough!”
I believe every single one of us hungers. This is a biological fact. Also metaphysically, allegorically. Truly hungers. Either we hunger for that bittersweet apple or we hunger for truth. We chow down with a great force on that shiny red skin only to be met with a deeper hunger. A deeper greed. There is no greed in truth. Truth constantly fills.
You have the power. The power to to show others their own. Hand in human hand.
Biting into the cake. 3 forks, 3 friends old and new. Where would we be without the comfort of familiar faces in a world too big to comprehend?
“Happiness is only real when shared
– Christopher McCandless
The sweet faces ease the monotony, provide ample distraction, and maybe some love along the way. Regardless, your best friend must still be you. Your real self. No. Your true self! Faces come and go, but the face staring back at you in the mirror stays, ever changing, but still constant there.
Wrinkles, creases, tired wizened eyes. Still alive and still breathing.
The forest with a friend, is not so different as the forest on one’s own. Conversation included within both experiences. The conversation is worries, desires, love gained, love lost. It flows and it pushes. Don’t fight it, don’t force it and with each step you will submit. Feeling each thought. Yes, FEELING. Understanding that thought to the full. The same goes with a more terrestrial companion. Small talk, chatter, but as the path broadens so does the connection. The human connection.