Living With Sham in a World of Greatness

We all strive for greatness,

but in my greatness

I am shameful.

Shame,

the drug my body

has fallen upon

and has lived.

In shame

I dream.

I dream of a better tomorrow,

I work and rework

my inner self,

and pretend my life

can get better.

Greatness,

what I may have achieved

but refuse to see,

the chalkboard

whipped clean

when it was already beautiful.

I, many times

have earned my right

to be happy. Every day.

But I won’t let myself see it.

So, what is greatness.

How do the ones

who never allow themselves

to see it,

earn it?

A Child’s Room

Don’t look upstairs, mom. The young girl in her dark tattered dress scattered up the wooden steps. Each wooden board screamed under her tiptoed feet, her dress spun and swayed with delicate threads pulling away from its form. She fluttered into her room, threads following behind with the curly hairs on her head slowly raising towards her bedroom ceiling. She quickly, but quietly, shut the cracked and chipped wooden door before her wonderland erupted.

She turned around in her room like a fairy in the forest. She danced and squirmed, her hair raising higher and higher with the loose threads of her dress while stars glide from wall to wall. Water trickled down from the sky above her. Her toes burry themselves into the sand below her tender feet just before a gust of wind blows her dress as the stars rain down like the water and find the threads of her dress. She giggles when she begins to fly. Her dress a bubble filled with air, the stars directing her up and towards the open sky. The rain washed her face and dirty dress clean and the cries and yelling downstairs slowly become silent.

Like a Child Learning to Ride a Bike

Remember that time you bought me flowers? It was the first time you ever expressed your admiration towards me. Every flower petal was perfectly in place and you said it was no big deal and I deserve it. You told me you loved me and I believed you. Your heart shined through your light blue button-down and your smile softened as you waited for my reply. Like a child standing in front of their class, butterflies fluttered in my stomach as I stuttered through my response. A response that lead you to cradle me in your arms and kiss me with lips as soft as silk.

Remember that time you told me you wanted to marry me? We were laying side by side when you took off your necklace and put it in my hands. Your eyes slowly glided from my hands to my face, undressing my body in an imaginative gaze until their found their place, sinking into my green eyes. A valley of wonder and promise. You spoke with tender words, as your hand tightened around mine with the necklace tangled in my fingers, then told me you loved me. You waited for some kind of reply, and like a child dancing in the rain, I gave my response. A response that lead you to cradle me in your arms and kiss me with lips as soft as steam.

Remember that time we sat for hours in your car? You remained motionless, your palms tightly clasped in your lap with your face lowered and eyes streaming with anger. Maybe it was something I said. Something you said. Something we both didn’t say. I left you car with eyes swollen and bloodshot, but later that night you texted me and said you loved me. You waited over an hour for me to reply, and like a child talking to its mother, I gave my response. A response that lead you to buy me flowers, with petals tender yet torn, you cradled me in your arms and kissed me with lips as soft as morning light.

Remember that time when the bed felt cold? Words were sharp and emotions were tender. You were resting beside me, body heavy as stone as an ocean churned between us. I rolled over to face you, and with your back as your barrier, you formed a wall to keep me out and my sorries away. I closed me eyes and wished this would disappear, but when they reopened your room was a blur, distorted between a watery haze. I whispered “I love you” and waited for your reply, but like a child lost in the woods, the tree did not respond. No longer would I be cradled in your arms and kissed with soft and tender lips. I got up to leave that night and you didn’t even stir. Your body remained motionless, breath steady, and eyes hazy. I turned to face you as I stood holding my jacket when the ocean sent a wave of clarity to wipe away my tears. You may once have told me you loved me, but the flowers you have given me have since wilted and died, and much like a child baring cuts and bruises, I learn from my mistakes and decided to move forward.

An Answer to the Bullies

I just posted a blog post as a kind of answer to the bullies I faced in high school on The Girl in the Boots and I truly surprised myself.

High school was not “the time of my life” as some have told me before. “Embrace these years because you’re gonna miss it.” Lies. All of it.

High school was much like the experience dolphins have in the aquarium. I was on display to be judged and all did judge me. I was forced to preform tasks outside the normal academic routine, I was laughed at, judged by my superiors, and then left alone until it was time to be on display again.

What I have since gathered from all of this is that the comments about my size, hair, voice, and body shape have been received and remain within me; however, I rose above them.

The damage they have caused can still be seen on my body today, but in the end the figurative ghost created by their taunts has diminished.

The girl who was displayed for so much judgment let the words crash with her spirit, but in the end, my spirit has only grown stronger.

To Be Continued…

…and the amateur blogger is moving forward.

Spontaneously, and probably well overdue, I have decided to create another blog to feature my long lost loves: photography, adventure, personal stories and insight, while still featuring a bit of writing.

If you, my magnificent followers (yes, I am being a suck up on purpose) are interested in following my other blog… well… then do it!!

The blog is called The Girl in the Boots, a name that came to me in the most obvious of ways. My style is a reflection of my simplistic being, strange personality, dark sense of reality, and frayed, yet lasting spirit.

Life is an adventure to wander through and these tattered boots have guided and protected my thus far. So, lets see where they lead me next.

Step Two: Remove the Bandaid

Hello readers! Due to a recent turn of events (actually, quite a few of them) I have been unable and unwilling to write on my blog. Emotions have eaten me alive that last few weeks and I did not want that to show through my blog posts which sometimes tend to be somewhat depressive already. Anywho, I am proud to announce that step two of my Ten Steps to Getting your Sh*t Together has gone into effect!!

In case you have absolutely no clue what I am talking about, my Ten Steps list is a previous post I created that is supposed to help me get out of this rut I’ve been in for years. Now that I have realized that I am able to create myself and that I deserve all the happiness in the world, I have began a journey of enlightening myself even further to get this sad girl out in the world as a new self made and happy being.

Step two of my list was one i knew I needed to get done fast because of how easily I can reason with storing things I no longer need. I wouldn’t call myself a hoarder but clothes horse seems reasonable. I’m the person that will go shopping as a way to cover up emotions. When I feel sad or depressed I go to shopping centers and wander around. There’s something about being surrounded by colorful and fun fabrics that brings a smile to my face, and being able to buy them and call them mine, it’s like I am purchasing my own bit of happiness. After a recent breakdown, I realized these clothes I have accumulated are a kind of bandaid that has been covering up a much deeper wound, and the only way to get this wound to heal is to rip off the bandaid and let it breathe.

In the beginning, going through my clothes was easy and kind of fun. I went through one by one and easily tossed them into piles to either donate or keep. The donation pile grew and grew and I became skeptical that this was even going to help, but later as I began to get into my other clothing stashes, it hit me.

clothing 4.JPG

I looked at the gigantic pile of clothing on my bed and felt sick. This bandaid was larger than I thought and must have been there covering this deep wound for years. There were clothes in that pile that I have never seen before and many of them still had the tags on, and although I was ready to get rid of this pile of nonsense, I began to feel emotional from this sudden wave of vulnerability. These clothes have covered up the fact that on the inside my body is dressed in black and dark blue, a swirling mixture like a storm brewing in the sky. On the outside I am able to cover myself in bright outfits and a smile and a perky, glowing girl will shine through. getting rid of 50% of my closet means I would have less ways to hide.

clothing 6t

I will admit, I feel as though I should have donated more clothing than I did, but the mission of this journey is to allow myself to learn independence and grow, not completely lose myself in the process. My goal is to go back through these clothes and notice what I have not warn and get rid of it (especially those shoes… who wears that many pairs of shoes?!). There is no need to keep things for a make believe value when in reality they are just taking up space.

Once the clothes I have been piled up and placed in bags, I took them to a GoodWill and donated them. I took three large bags and one small bag overflowing with bright colors and gently worn fabrics. Seeing them go was easy, easier than putting them in piles at least. Once I had it in  my head that someone else can wear these clothes that I never paid too much time to, it made me feel proud of myself, but I’m still not done. Although I have let go of half of my closet, I still don’t feel like I have accomplished enough to be satisfied with myself. So, I will continue working through this list and see what I am capable of.

Let’s get this sad girl happy again and create her along the way.