acting it out

the art of learning to live

Archive for the category “the rules”

my first kiss

who wants to play spin the bottle?

I was 13 when I had my first kiss.
I didn’t know that there were “rules”,
so I kept my eyes open.

I wanted to see.
I wanted to remember as many details as possible.

It’s who I was. who I am.

But the other kids teased me.

They laughed & told me
I was doing it wrong.

& I closed my eyes for my second kiss.

From then on I started
“closing my eyes” for a lot of things.
But always for the same reason.
Because it’s what everyone else did.
Because I desperately needed that validation from my peers.

As I grew up, I could feel a heaviness on my soul;
Far greater than anything someone so young should know
or even recognize.

There were times,
I would peak out from behind my closed eyes at the world I was living in.
Those moments were beautiful,
when I would forget about the words those kids had said to me
when I would forget about trying to fit in
when I would forget who I was trying to be
& just be
me.

But then

Someone would laugh at me & tell me
I was doing it wrong.

& I would close my eyes again.

I spent so many years of my life like this.
I missed out
on so much of my life
because I was more focus on
living the life others thought I should
rather than
living my life.

I spent so many years of my life
trying to fit into whatever mold was handed to me.
I was a human chameleon.
I tried to become whatever I was expected to be by those around me.
I played so many parts in my short life:

the cheerleader
the church goer
the good girl
the college student
the dumb blonde
the party girl
the future mrs. first love?
the college drop out
the re formed party girl
the saved from sin
the future mrs. second love?
the two dimensional member of society

satisfied
satisfied
satisfied

but then
I opened my eyes,
wide.

I laughed at myself & realized
I was doing it wrong.

& I kept my eyes open.

It’s been a few years now
& I still struggle, at times, to keep my eyes open:
to keep staring, wide eyed, at the road ahead.

so, forgive me if I don’t
live my life
the way you think I should.

Forgive me if you think
I’m doing it wrong.

But I’m not.
I’m living
my life.

I’m living it
to the best of my ability.

& I’m seeing.
& I’m remembering as many details as possible.

am I ok?

are you ok?

my dad asked me this today on the phone. It made me think about how often people have asked me that exact question (or variations of) in the last few months.

These are some examples of those questions
& how I have answered them, almost every time:

are you ok?
yes
how are you doing?
fine.
how are you holding up?
fine.
do you need anything?
nope.

& these are the honest answers to those questions:

are you ok?
I am ok.

just ok.
I’m not particularly good,
but I’m not bad either.
I am ok.
& that’s ok.

how are you doing?
I am doing.

I am trying.
I am learning.
I am growing.
I am creating.
I am living.
I am doing.

how are you holding up?
I am getting up.

Sometimes I’m falling down.
Sometimes I’m breaking down.

But I get up.
I move forward.
& even if it seems like I’m
taking 2 steps forward
& 1 step back,
I continue to take those steps forward.
& soon it will only be forward.

do you need anything?
yes.

I need to be surround by friends.
I need to be alone.
I need support.
I need honesty.
I need tough love.
I need patience.
I need to stay as busy as possible.
I need to sit around and be lazy.
I need all that will be given.
I need nothing at all.

& I need understanding that
I need different things
at different times.

struggle

writing is a struggle against silence

But my problem isn’t silence.

It’s blaring, soul-wrenching, blood curling screaming
inside my head.
How do I get it out. How do I put it down into to type.

I feel like I’ve lost it.
The eloquence. The beauty of writing my thoughts.

It’s everything,
Our words. Our thoughts.
are/our everything,
If we were stripped down and left in a desert, what would we have?
Nothing but thoughts and words inside our heads.

So what does it matter how it comes out?
A jumble mess of thought vomit spewing out,
lacking that perfect pentameter and punctuation

Just do it. Just say it. Just write it.

But fear.

What oh what will people say? What will they think?

This poor girl with all her problems and her sad life and her poor dying mother and her poor fucked up family and her poor sad mind all jumbled up and upside down and inside out and spinning spinning into the darkness only to be drowned out by her 4am cries of self torment and self doubt and self deprecation and anger and sadness and anger and confusion and anger and loss.

Does it matter?

Who are these people who’s thoughts are more important than the ounce of sanity you feel after the release of your thoughts and words? Who are these people you care so much about?
Is it the friends or is it the former friends
Is it the family who already criticizes your every word and action
Is it the new people in your life
who you fear will label you as the girl with the dying mum
Is it the random acquaintance or the strangers
Why do any of them matter
Why do they matter over yourself?
Why why why why why

What is this society standard of self censorship in the matters of free thought and any emotion below happy?

So what if I’ve got problems? Who doesn’t?

Encouragement.

beautiful, inspiring, raw, vulnerable, sincere, and made ME (the reader) feel liberated.

Well, the reviews are in I guess.

I never imagined that something I wrote would warrant a statement like that.

I never imagined anyone would read this blog
outside of the 3 people I told about it in the beginning.

But I hit that share button to send it to Facebook &

VoilĂ  !

I have readers?
I have “followers”?

Most importantly,
I have someone who took time out of their day to make sure I knew that they liked my writing,
that it meant something to them!

I realize that this little thing, is not as little as it may seem.

I know how life is, and how it can get.
busy, stressful, hectic.

Even that small effort of clicking the “like” button means something to me.

So, to the ones who support me & encourage me,
even in the simplest of actions:

I recognize you & I thank you.

& I hope to return the thoughtfulness someday as often as I can.

Which brings me to my next thoughts.

How often do I need encouragement?

A lot.

Probably more than the average person.

I’m an artist, an actor.
it’s almost a requirement to be needy & insecure.

But how often do I give out encouragement?

Not very.

It’s true.
& it’s sad.

Why would I ever neglect to give that which I am so desperate to have myself?

There are a number of reasons & excuse that could be named.

But that isn’t what matters.
What is important is that I realize that everyone around me deserves, wants, & needs encouragement,
Just like I do.

& I need to make more of an effort to make the people in my life know
how much they mean to me,
and how much I believe in them.
Even in the little things.

As often as I can.

an aside

I would apologize for my somewhat depressing candor in those first few posts,
but that is what this blog is.

A collection of free thoughts straight from my brain to my mini keyboard to the screen.
My iPad didn’t come with a rainbow & sunshine only filter, so this is what you get.

If at any point, my writing leans towards one side or the other, please remember
this is just the place where I can release my thoughts, my frustrations.
But it is also the place where I can share my joys and victories.

It isn’t a diary. It isn’t a scientific representation of my state of mind.

So, have no fears my friends.
& Have no hopes my foes.

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