Hope

As every parent teaches their child, making mistakes is a way of life, and a form of survival, as well as the best way to grow. However, is there an age when making those mistakes is no longer learning, but plain wrong? And you no longer can be forgiven for the same minor travesties that making before earned only a tender smile and perhaps a slight rap on the hand with a ruler?

It is surprising that no one seems to understand how much every human being longs for the treasure of being understood, for whom they are, as well as who they want to be, and who they are trying to stop from becoming. Terribly easy isn’t it, to ignore the need that is ignited in a person when they are at their weakest and most vulnerable, and just need a few words of comfort, and a hand to hold on to while they try to find their bearings?

The hypocritical natures of people surprise and disgust me to the point that I no longer feel the need to try and figure out what they believe, or what they tell themselves, to let sleep come to them without guilt eating at their soul. Especially people in our religion, when the first step is to forgive, and not hold grudges against anyone.

The only thought that soothes my soul is that as long as you live your life with contentment, and you, within your heart knows that you did all you could, there is nothing you need fear from anyone, not condemnation, or curses, or anything else. I can’t help hate myself sometimes, for not being what my father needs me to be, but what can I do but follow my heart…it is the only feeling that allows me to sleep peacefully at night, that despite all the pressures, I still am able to give my life the meaning that I want to give it.

I warned them once before, and I shall warn them again. I will not give into what they want. I shall live the way want, and to hell with what everyone around me thinks is right and wrong. This maybe the only time in my life that I have to do something for myself that will allow me to live with the dignity of knowing that this was at some point my life, and I will let no one take this away from me. My life is mine to live, and the only people who have a right to comment and condone are the ones who have shaped me to be who I am today. If anyone attempts to open their mouths and shape my life, they are going to get the dressing down of their lifetimes, and never again shall they ever attempt to interfere in anyone’s lives, especially not in mine. My heart and soul seem to be getting stronger as the days move on, and I am sure that this is for my future, whether that be a good one or a bad one.


Let what may come, come. I face life head on, and I shall not shy away from fear or pain, for at least after the darkness, there is always a sunrise.

I shall await the rays that always transform bleakness to hope.

Anyone Out There?

I can't seem to figure out precisely what is wrong with me at the current moment, but my mind doesn't seem to want to take pleasure in anything, and for whatever reason it may be, no one understands how I feel, and I loathe myself for feeling this way anyways. The only thing which seems to soothe me now is my music, which I listen to with an alarmingly increasing frequency nowadays. I again feel as though everything is slowly crashing around me, and all that stands on the way of complete ruin and me is, well, me. Amusing, isn't it, that my crisis's never seem to end?

 

I feel as though the saving that I await, doesn't want to come, and that my perfect ending, the one that my father reassures me time and again is out there, and is coming, actually won't show up, and what is in my head will remain just that ; a dream.

 

I fear waking up these days, fear facing each day, and ending with the same feeling that I do everyday, which is that I am alone. I know I'm not; I have friends, and the most wonderful family that anyone could ask for. But the feeling doesn't leave. So what does that make me? Ungrateful? Well, obviously. But how can I be blamed for how I am led to think? Isn't this the way every young, nubile female thinks? Doesn't every young woman want to be loved, and looked at as though there was nothing before, nor will there be anything after her? I hate feeling so vulnerable to anyone, or to myself. But not admitting to the world is one thing, for to maintain a sense of decorum in front of everyone is absolutely necessary. Allowing them to believe that there is a way to crack my armor is the same as putting a price on my head. And not admitting to myself in another matter altogether. The longer I deny my feelings to myself, the worst off I shall be when the one I await finally arrives, whenever that shall happen. It hurts inside, to admit to myself that it is perfectly possible we shall never meet, and shall go through life missing all aspects of the perfect romance which may have happened. And yet, I cannot let go of the hope that he is there, and will sweep me off my feet in the most beautiful and unique way possible. I need that chest, to rest my head on, and to listen to his heartbeat that will soothe my soul as nothing has been able to so far. I need to gaze into those eyes, and derive the strength to go on. I need those arms to encircle me and show me that the castle they build around me will never break down. I need to lean against that body, and know that no matter how much crumbles, I will be able to stand again. I need you.

Good Lord, I sound like a child. But I can't help it. It is so difficult to stay strong anymore. To do what everyone asks, without complaint, acting like everything is in the realm of my "doing" capabilities, when all I feel like doing is curling beneath the covers and admitting defeat. I need you so badly that every fiber of my being seems to shed tears, and the mornings and evenings have lost their luster and beauty. The sun is no longer warm, the moon no longer glows, and the stars no longer shine. The night is no longer mysterious; the day no longer makes me stand in awe. I need you to show me beauty again. I need you to remind me what life is. Please, come and hold my hand and show me the world that my eyes refuse to see without you. The most hurtful part is that I think of you with so much love in my heart, and I don't know who you are. You don't even know that I exist. Do thoughts like these traverse your mind? Do you lie awake at night and dream of me curling next to you with my hand on your chest, and your breath filtering through my hair, lulling me to sleep, while the feeling of safety and being loved permeate through my being until I am so saturated by them that there is no room for fear and shyness.

"You leave me breathless.

You're everything I need in my life.

You leave me breathless.

I still can't believe that you're mine.

You just walked out of one of my dreams.

So beautiful you're leaving me….breathless."