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Experience of Youth

When we were young we would wear happiness on our sleeves like we wear pain now. Youth has never been defined by age but by experience. The moment we experience something traumatizing, gruesome, sad, or even sexual we lose our innocence like some sort of evasive monarch. It stays for only a moment and then it’s gone.

Young. Before pain. Before the first time I fell off the monkey bars.

Young. Long before I was scared of the dark. Before I knew there was something in the dark that I was supposed to be scared of. Before the dark became my best friend because, suddenly, it was all I knew.

Young. When innocence was the only option. When we played outside without fear of assumption. No fear of people wanting to play games that we didn’t. When the games were just as simple as the innocence that we were fighting to preserve. When we though preservation was something simple.

Young. Before I learned that the glowing blue light on top of the stove hurts when you touch it. Before I learned that the video tape I got from my neighbor was actually not The Muppets. Come to think of it, I never knew what it was to be innocent, if this is the way I choose to describe it.

Young. Before he touched me. Before he made me an object. Before he acted like he was spoiling me so that I didn’t tell Mom. How young must I have been to not remember what it feels like to be innocent? Before the closet was a decent hiding place. Before blankets were no longer safe. Before feeling like my own skin was still filthy after my shower.

Young. The shower no longer safe because, “we don’t lock doors in this house”. He always wanted to play a game that I didn’t and the only reason I knew it was wrong was because we were alone… and I had to keep quite.

Young. When I didn’t know how to preserve something like innocence because I didn’t even know the word. When there was nowhere to hide but in plain sight. When I didn’t want people to leave the house without me and they thought it was because I was being rotten.

Young. Before he told me that I was nothing but a good fuck. Before my depression held me captive in my own mind.

Young. When I wore pain the way most children wore their snap bracelets.

Young. When everyone expected a girl to be “seen and not heard”. I could only stay quiet so long. I had stayed quiet too long.

Young. When I spoke but no one heard me. When I was tired.

“Tired? You’re too young to be tired”.

Stressed.

“What do you have to be stressed about”?

Alone.

“Why don’t you talk to us? We are all here for you”.

Young. When all of the voices fell silent. I was so young and no one wanted to see why or they attributed it to teen angst, or whatever you choose to call the darkness that I wore draped over my shoulders at the age of sixteen.

I was young, so they called me inexperienced. They called me naive. I was the definition of naive. I was so young when I believed that I had seen so much and really hadn’t seen much at all.

Young. When he told me to close my eyes because it would only last a second. When I wore the darkness like a pelt around my throat so that it didn’t wear me. The cloak thick, shielding me from outside forces but holding me hostage within myself.

Young. Before the dark made me old and the experiences made me…. new.

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She was the Calm and the Storm

She was his rock. She was steady, unmoving, and unapologetically beautiful. She always stood up for those too afraid, beaten down, or uncomfortable to have a voice. She was the crack of thunder after the sky was streaked with light. She wore her confidence like a badge of honor, the sun gleaming off it to catch the eye of intrigued minds.

She never once asked for forgiveness for her abrasiveness. Never stating to the people around her that she was anything less than worthy, she knew what she had to offer. She could offer her love, support, and undying gratitude for the energy that others seemed to exude. Her soul was as beautiful as the illuminated clouds that surrounded the moon.

One man was all it took. Suddenly, she was no longer the crack of thunder. She was the lightening. She was all rage and no forgiveness. The anger building within her soon was released and if there were people in the way of her succeeding in the task that she was bred for, the consequences were deadly. She was created in the eye of something beautiful and was destroyed by an egocentric heart.

He looked at her with admiration. He knew of her beauty but not of her worth. He knew of her strength but not of her tolerance. He knew of her confidence but not of her stubborn determination to thrive without another’s restraints. She needed fuel to stoke her fire but he never loved her. She was just fuel for his ego.

Fatal Attraction

The saying goes that you fall for someone. They call it falling because it’s that easy. It’s so simple to fall head over heels and then we find scrapes, bruises, and maybe even gashes and wonder where they came from.

Fatal Attraction
Beaten
By the fear of loss and rejection
Torn
By which direction seems less damaging
Battered
By feelings and words gone unspoken
Broken
By everyone who ever said they’d never leave
This kind of attraction is damaging to the most beautiful parts of us as we seek some sort of redemption in love with someone not made for us. We are beaten down and broken but we keep getting up to fight again and when the smoke fades and the dust settles there will be only you to pull yourself from the rubble.
Pick yourself up and dust yourself off because you’ve got more to live for than someone else’s pride and ego. Smile, child, for it is time to see the beauty within yourself. 

Aurora Borealis

There are so many different pieces to life. Life is made up of a multitude of choices, situations, and moments. Those things make us who we are and they create a character within us that we can’t deny. 

The choices that we make in life lead us down a particular path. The path you choose could be that of least resistance or it could be the road that gets you stuck in the mud, tires spinning out of control. We should never regret those choices that get us stuck in the mud. They are there to teach a lesson and put us back on the route that we were meant to be on in the first place.
There are two different categories within the situations in our lives. There are situations that  our choices have put us in and then there are situations that others have led us to but, ultimately, our choices are what put us in all situations. The lives that surround us will cause us to do some things that we may not have done otherwise but, in the end, it’s our decision.
And then there are moments. The most beautiful and heartfelt of life’s lessons. There are moments in time and space that we cannot deny are otherworldly. We get a sense of belonging and utter bliss and, for a single moment, we have an overwhelming feeling. Whatever that feeling may be depends on what the moment constitutes.
Some moments make us feel like we are no longer the biggest thing in life. Suddenly, there is so much more to life than “me”. It’s like standing at the edge of a cliff and seeing how insignificant each ant-sized car looks as it treks aimlessly to some dead end job. Other moments hold a feeling of peacefulness that we never fathomed could be possible. It’s standing in the middle of a field just as the sun starts to peek over the horizon and seeing the mist that wisps across the grass. My favorite of all moments is that moment where we are so encapsulated with love for someone that just looking in their eyes is all you could ever need (or so we think). It’s like we could swim in their irises because we can now see the depths of their soul and feel as if we are part of something beautiful.
Life has so many different colors and movements. The colors seem to blend together to create one wondrous image before our eyes. Aurora Borealis is a breathtaking sight and we are very quick to look at the sky and see the moving current of color but don’t look close enough to break down every individual hue.
This life is not meant to be simple and sometimes disection is the only way to understand certain parts because, let’s be honest, no one will ever really be able to say what the true meaning of life is.

Him

When she met him he picked her up and pulled her close. He looked at her as if she were some ethereal figure longing to be seen, even if only for a moment. The man before her was somebody she never thought she’d meet, stable yet vulnerable.

When she touched him she no longer felt alone. Someone was finally there to make her feel as though she had someone to stand beside her as she tried to pull herself up off the ground. When she touched him something inside her evolved and she wondered why she had never seen herself so strong before.

When she loved him he starved all the fears that she had held close to her for so long. He helped her feel beautiful. He smiled when her eyes danced to the beat of the music that reminded her so much of her love for him. His love was passion and pain.

When he left she felt his words cut like daggers in her chest. He twisted the knife and watched as she gasped for air. He never once looked back at the pieces that he left scattered on the ground. He slammed all the doors in her face and when he left, there was nothing left in his place. 

The Committee

They are wrong about you.

“She deserves better than you”

“”You’ll never be able to give her what she needs”

“You don’t deserve her love”

“You’re just an addict”

Lies!

The committee is lying to you and if you give in, you will never know. You will never know a love like hers. Let her show you what she has to offer and she will give you the same in return. Let your heart love her,

Not the committee.

Darkness

I lay alone in silence

Consumed by the darkness

I sometimes feel inspired

to write

to pour my soul on the paper

but to pick up the pen would mean

lifting the weight bearing down

on my shoulders

on my chest

on my heart

The darkness overtakes inspiration

It holds everything I love in a vice grip

It won’t let go

The darkness is frightening

Empowering

Strengthening

but debilitating

It is my muse

My reason for writing

And writing is my purpose