the thing is, I think there is poetry in our youth that we lose momentarily at the end of our adolescence, and we search for to escape adulthood. perhaps, my nostalgia, most of all, is to escape this inescapable reality of bills, health, and society's finest concoction of inequalities.
I've survived so much, yet there wasn't a need for responsibility in my survival. mistakes could be easily brushed off as nonchalance, as "not knowing better." I have Great Gatsby on the television now, and I remember distinctly when I first watched it, thinking I want to live a life this: romantic and grand, though however tragic it might end. here's what I don't remember: who I really wanted to be. I think I spent so much of my high school years here just wanting to belong and fit in. I wanted to check their boxes. i held their laughs like trophies when I said something witty, I played in my head again and again when I was noticed, invited to their tables, blushing at the nominations, the homecoming walk, all stupid things really that I believed proved to the world I was good enough.
of course, we live and we learn don't we? dearest reader, dearest me, I'm not sure if it's the night or the years. but the melancholy, like my fears, once an opponent of the future, now a friend, like peace, satisfied only in silence, in the sun peeking through the leaves of trees, in the sound of linen blowing on the clothesline at 11 am on a Saturday.
the thing is, there was so much I never really gave a fuck about back then. I just wanted to belong. but in my insecurities and longing to just feel loved, I was selfish in my friendships, deceitful with my intentions, publicly inauthentic, and then when it all backfired into the demise of my friendships and being faced with the stinging truth that I had lost my identity, I cursed the world and universe for betraying me so cruelly. I drank and drank again and closed myself off because what good was any of it. well, universe, thank you for leading my blind little heart through it all. in lost security, spirituality was slowly gained.
I don't really know what I'm ever saying anymore. I just know that I want to make something meaningful, purposeful. I don't know yet what it means for me. but what do I let go? I let go of any expectations. I open myself up to seeing what may seem mundane or painful at first could be the next profound thing I was searching for, if only I open my heart to receive the message it needs to be received. I let go of judgement to the messages of the universe. I keep opening the mail. and then i only respond back with love.
sounds kind of fucking cheesy, but I'll take it.
here is my postcard to you word, to you dearest reader:
sometimes our blessings feel like betrayals at first until we've truly learned to weather the storm. not shelter ourselves from it, until we've welcomed it. the thunder was loud, the clouds seemed heavy, I thought the flood would carry me away, but now I stand here in the street, and the rain feels so damn good.
janainaart
germansingergirl
tangentwithtanner
ellievsbear
areudirty
romaincrisis
vaporwave
