This

This is who we are. We are this.
The truth is we are so many different things. Aside from being a person, we are what we see and what we think. We spend time worrying too much about things that are less important than we actually believe. We can all be trivial at times. We contemplate. We anticipate and predict. We find ourselves in a routine to create a source of comfortable understanding. This way we can come to an understanding. Or, if nothing else, at least we can find a way to tolerate the pace of everyday living.

We are a compilation of events and ideas that mix with emotions to become our feelings. We procrastinate from time to time. We are smart in our own way and ignorant in others. We are literally all of this. Yet, we are so much more.

Or better yet, let me speak for myself. I am a list of insecurities. I am a list of poor choices. I am a combination of scars, factors and outcomes. I am the sum of my decisions. Both my body and mind has reacted to the way I’ve treated them. I have certainly eaten the wrong foods. I’ve acted out. I’ve cheated and lied. I’ve made my mistakes. committed crimes, sins and I’ve certainly paid a price for them. More than anything, I am real. I am painfully real at times. Flesh and blood. Yet, I am so much more.

I am a combination of weakness and strengths. I am a history of improvements and a proof that life does in fact go on (if we let it). I am a memory of a little boy that was hurt when he was small. This wasn’t my fault, yet, no one told me this so I went on with the burden for a very long time.

I am a memory of rejections that no longer exist. I am a boy that wanted to play and pretend and have fun. I am also a boy that had to go to the nurse’s office in second grade to put on a pair of emergency pants because of an accident that happened in the school’s cafeteria.

I am a morning after a long night when I was afraid of the dark. Yet, I am more than this. I am a teenager. I am afraid. I am someone that stood up when in all fairness, all I wanted to do was creep away and hide or better yet, I just wanted to disappear.

I am a student in the principal’s office. I am someone in detention. I am someone that could not understand my schoolwork. I couldn’t understand the social structures or the cliques or the groups or the different pods of popularity.

I am someone with a crush on a girl but I was too afraid to tell her because she laughed at me. I am little, small, weak and in fear of being found out.
Yet, I am more.

I am that one. I am that person. I am that degraded, soulless and lost individual with dirty hands and burn marks on my lips from a glass pipe while breaking through a window to steal. I am that one that lived with a challenge that no one else could see, except for me. I am that one.
I had secrets.
I am hatred and I am this because I hated.
I hated because deep down; all I wanted was love but for some reason, love seemed too elusive. Love was something that happened for other people. So was happiness.
I am this. I am suicide. I am depression. I am the stigma. I am that face, like anyone else in this world; and I am that one who could not understand why life is the way it is. Yet, I am more.

I am a court case on the docket. I am a string of felonies. I am the mistreatment of myself and the warden of my own imprisoned mind. I am all of this.
Yet, I am more.

I am the one that regardless to how bad it was and regardless of how shameful it was to wake up on a bathroom floor after the most desperate act; I am the one that stood up. I am the one that put the shotgun away and took a turn in a different direction.

I am the one that wept in front of groups of people because quite honestly, I simply could not take this anymore. I could not take myself or my image, which I had created, crafted and perfected from a sickness that almost killed me.
Yet, I am more.

I am the rebuilding force of nature that was able to somehow recover. This was not easy nor is this easy now. I have bad days. I curse and I swear. I find faults. I look around and wait for the next worst thing to happen.
I allow this to take away joy and defeat my little victories to become joyless. I allow this to silence the cheers of my simple daily successes. Yet, I am more because in spite of this; I still continue. In spite of my mistakes, I do not stop. In spite of the so-called rejections or so-called failures, I keep going. Regardless of the fallouts and arguments from bad relationships.

I kept going in spite of myself.
I kept going even when the sharpened smiles betrayed me. I kept going when I failed myself. Even after I humiliated myself and all of a sudden, it was as though I was that little kid again. I responded to a character flaw because of an insecurity and yes, I say this once more: I was that kid again.
I was that kid in the cafeteria. I was the kid that accidentally pissed his pants in a room where everyone could see. I was the kid they sent to the nurse’s office to put on a pair of purple corduroy pants because this was all they had in the emergency pile. I was that kid, exposed and humiliated. I was the kid that had to walk around all day, marked by a shameful accident.
Yet, I am more.

I am a link that helped others. I am someone with a heart and a dream. I am someone that has continued to both create myself as well as recreate myself on a daily basis. I am recovery. I am the rebuild. I am the remarkable fact that being persistent and consistent with anything does, in fact, can and will lead us in the direction we choose. 
I am good. I am hopeful. I am loving. I am a child.

Do you know who I am?
I am like you and everyone else in this world with secrets and fears and worries. I am a person. Flesh and blood. I am a laugh and a smile. I am not afraid to cry or sing or dance or play anymore.
More than anything, I am only someone looking to find the way, the light, the truth and the hopefulness because at one point, I was nothing. At one point, I was a person that abandoned myself. I believed the lies. I was hopeless and helpless and firm to believe that nothing I could ever do or say would ever be good or least of all, cared about and regarded. 

I see people and I love them.
I see them, beautiful as ever. I listen to them and I hear them speak. I hear them laugh or cry. I hear them tell their stories and I listen to them call out for a life they desire.
God, they are so beautiful.
More to the point . . .
YOU are so beautiful.

You are the kind of beauty that is unaware of itself. You don’t know because you don’t see this. You think your connections to others is something that builds you but no. This is not so.
I would like to tell you that the room changes every time you walk into it. I would like to invite you to see that you are the key ingredient to so many people’s lives and simply because you live; simply because you are here, now, the world is just a better place because of you.

You are this. You are all of this and more.
You are the most beautiful person in your world. You are the square root, the sum, the Earth, the wind, the sky and the rain. You are a long walk on a picture perfect day. You are everything.
Trust me.

I am me. I am a concept and a theory. I am a work in progress.
I am perfect. And so are you.

The rest is nothing more than unimportant nonsense.
So please . . .
Don’t give up on me.

One thought on “This

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