Oct. 08, 2017
“There are poets who sing you to sleep and poets who ready you for war and I want to be both.” – Ashe Vernon
I’ve written this, rewritten this, deleted this, revived this, and now, here I am with a barely breathing cult of letters that wait in submission for my next order. What should I say? Will I ever even post this? Does it deserve to be stamped with a release date?
My favorite thing to do is fall in love.
There, now I’ve dived in.
Yes, I enjoy running, reading, writing, talking to God, laughing with my family, etc., but my one requirement to continue dragging myself through the sickness of the world is that I must be able to fall in love.
It’s a dangerous hobby. I’m in love with God, I’m in love with my family, I’m in love with my friends, and I’m in love with the idea of one day being in love with someone who will serve God and grow with me and just laugh with me. I have so much of myself invested into so many things and people that the chance of me getting hurt is so much greater, but then again so is the chance that I will live a life full of passion and adventure.
Another thing, I love learning. I’m in love with knowledge, but not because knowledge is power. No, I am in love with knowledge because the more I learn the more I can expand. I can expand my love, my faith, my ideas, my life… I have so much more room to expand. The universe is ginormous, but I want to surpass it. I want to be so much more than myself that it scares me.
Do you know me yet?
I’ll keep trying.
Yes, I do not give up, there’s something you should know. Is it a curse? I refuse to think so. Does that make me stubborn? Very well.
My papa said it’s good to be stubborn. He said it’s good to stand for something. I think I want to believe that, so I think I will.
People, especially, I won’t give up on. There is good in everyone, or at the very least the desire to be good and to do good. That is where things get tricky. It can be draining to see the best in someone who doesn’t see it in themselves, or maybe doesn’t even want to, but I still don’t give up. Would I want someone to allow me to live a life less than the one I have the capability to lead?
I’ll go deeper.
I am afraid.
Before this blog, sharing my personal writing wasn’t a popular occasion for me, hence the word “personal”, but now I’ve all but hung my deepest thoughts over the big screen in Times Square. That’s terrifying.
People not understanding these words I am typing scares me. People thinking I don’t understand what I am saying or feeling is discouraging. People refusing to think at the level in which my mind tends to wander just because I am younger is just indescribably frustrating.
I choose my words with precision. I weave my sentences with concentration. My thoughts are mine just as my soul is mine. This is who I am. These words aren’t words to me. These letters are not just letters to me. They are like worthy warriors lining up for battle. My warriors are battling for you to understand. My warriors are fighting for a chance to make you feel and to help you see.
I know I have more experiences to endure and so much more to learn, but so far I do know this: A writer is a writer when their writing consumes every single piece of themselves. Therefore, I do know that I am a writer. No nasty words will tear that from my palms simply because I am no longer holding on to the dream of being a writer.
I am one.
I am an author.
I am a creator.
I have grown into this skin and I wear it proudly everywhere I go, so no, I may not know the key to life, but I do know that there are thousands of doors, and I plan to share with you how I am beating on every single one until I find my way.
You wanted to take a piece of this, my love, and I don’t know why. I don’t even know you. You didn’t leave your name. Just a couple letters with sharpened ends that pricked my fingertips when i traced them. My phone screen left smeared in blood when I hurried to delete the toxicity your words left inside my safe haven.
I’m different now, though. Here I stand, still with no weapons except the thoughts in my head, yet the daggers you throw at me will not pierce my skin. Now that you know this, and now that you know me, I hope you will allow me to help you fight a war much bigger than ourselves. I hope you will allow me to help you feel and think and expand into everything you’ve ever wanted and more. I hope there are no hard feelings.
Because in my heart I know, there is good in everyone.
the 15 year old who couldn’t possibly have any idea what she’s talking about,
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Life can be messy. Thank God I have my faith and my pencil.