#definecrazy

[jolow5388]

早安點心。 ☀️#frombeertochinesetea #definecrazy (at 富山茶楼 Ipoh Foh San)

[qartist0]

#DefineCrazy artpiece finished ! #art #draw #101dalmatiners #pencil @_artistiq @justartspiration @thinkspace_art @art_realistique @artfido @arts_help @officialdisneyart #officialdisneyart

[qartist0]

Progress of my #DefineCrazy drawing. #Disney #101dalmatiners #villain #art #draw #pencil (at Qatar National Convention Centre)

[letsallbreathe-blog]

Crazy

Crazy.. 

Are we born crazy, or is it something we develop as we go through life. Does birth cause us to be crazy, or do experiences cause crazy. 

When I was 6, I would dress in the most beautiful cloths. I would style my own hair every day, and pick my own out fits. And when I walked up to the mirror, I was completely content with what I saw. I saw a beautiful happy 6 year old girl. And I continued to believe that until the first time a mean boy called me fat on the play ground. I went home, and the next day I styled my hair, and picked out my own out fit. I walked up to the mirror, and noticed my Belly was bigger than the other girls. And my thighs weren't as small as the other girls. And when I smiled, my face got really big. That entire day I tried not to smile. And again, the mean boy called me fat. As I grew older, my brother began to use the word "fat" in every degrading way he could think of. It became something consistent. If I did something wrong, something he didn't like, I would prepare to hear those words. I began seeing how other girls bodies were shaped, I would watch movies and the first thing I would notice would be the silhouette of a teenage girl. I would never be content with the way I look. From just one boys comment, I was introduced to something so horrible. Something so crazy, insecurities. 

When my little brother was born, I was so excited to see that there was a new soul entering my life. I would have someone to play with, and boss around. There were so many positive thoughts going through my head, except of course the fact that he wasn't going to be a girl. I thought that birth was such a beautiful thing and that my parents would be so happy to have a new soul enter their lives. Until the first time I saw my mother cry because her mother had passed away. When I lost my own cousin who was so close to me. I realized, that birth isn't so beautiful if it could be taken away at any moment. My brother could die at any moment and we would all be miserable. My parents would reminisce on the day a new soul entreated their lives. And would realize, it was all gone. Those moments were when I was introduced to something crazy, death. 

When I was a little girl, I would jump up and down when receiving wedding invitations. The idea of brothers and sisters, extended family and friends jointing together to celebrate the love between two passionate people was beautiful. Everyone wearing fascinating gowns and the most beautiful jewelry was so exciting. Walking down the isle as a flower girl being a part of the commitment two lovers were about to make was a blessing. Until the day I realized my parents marriage was over. 20 years of love, 3 loving children and a beautiful home was going to be torn apart. Two people who had known everything about each other suddenly were turning backs on each other.Two lovers who had promised to stand by each other through sickness and health, who promised to be there for each other through difficult times are suddenly causing each others misery. Two lovers standing by each other through difficult doctor appointments, through labor and painful days letting the empire they had built together turn to dust. Two lovers, who's house was once shared, is no longer a home. This experience was when I was exposed to something crazy, The separation of two lovers.

When I went to school for the first time, I encountered many "best friends" but when I really met my best friend, I was convinced we would be friends forever. Her family was my family. I would find my self being at her house playing with her siblings, even when she wasn't home. Even the most embarrassing thoughts would be shared with her. I had recited a speech in front of a thousand people during her batmizva, promising that we would be friends for ever. Even through our little arguments, we know at the end of the day we would be the best of friends. Until the day, she decided that she didn't want to be friends anymore. She decided that even after 9 years of a strong friendship she did not feel a bond anymore. And just like that, it was over. Something that sounds so simple, was so painful. I felt a burning pain in my heart. I loved her, and she let me go. That was the day I faced a very crazy thing, betrayal. 

When I would go to the doctor for checkups, I feared shots, and looked forward to the sticker that would be given to me, and the cough drop lollipop I would receive when I faked a throat ache. The only time I'd have to visit the hospital was when a family member was going to give birth. I never knew that something could come out of the blue, and severely put your life in risk. Until the day I found out my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. I was young, and didn't understand how something so horrible could grow in your own body on its own. I didn't know that your body had the unfortunate ability to create something that puts its self at risk. I didn't know people had to have their bodies cut open to remove  something deadly out of their bodies. I didn't expect to run out of the auditorium when my school had an assembly about raising awareness for people with cancer. I began to think that every time I had a head ache, or small pain, it could possibly be something cancerous. That when it was revealed to me. Something so horribly crazy,  cancer. 

When I was young, I would tell my mom I loved her all the time. She taught me that hate is a strong word. It was rarely used in my vocabulary. And when I did use it, it would be about hating a certain color, or a genre of music. Until the first time a girl made me so angry, so frustrated and purely mad. I was able to say "I hate her" with out a doubt in my mind. I felt no remorse for using that word towards another person. I loathed her and was so disgusted with the person she was. Soon enough, the word hate became something so natural. A teacher would assign to much homework or not let me go to the bathroom, and suddenly I would hate them. My mother did not let me go out, and suddenly I hated her. Being a teenager and walking by a person and suddenly feeling animosity towards them. Its fascinating how two words with the complete opposite meanings, have the same amount of strength in them, are so similar. That was the day I encountered such a horrible emotion, something so incredibly crazy, hate. 

So was I born crazy, Or did I develop this through experiences and obstacles I encountered. Was I born with a pure mind, or was I born with these thoughts already  in my head. When I laughed for my first time as a new born baby, was it something I learned to do watching others, or was laughter and happiness an emotion I was born with. Was the feeling of hate and remorse the same? Was I born with the experience of letting go and vacating something I love, leaving my mothers body. So my question here, Is my mind corrupt? Are my dark thoughts a figment of my imagination or is it a mentality I've created? Is this crazy? Am I crazy.

Arielle Lavian