This is for the kid who is misguided somehow
or tricked, just like I was
or fooled into thinking
that something about them is faulty or wrong
or mis-wired
or otherwise imperfect.
But the fact is no.
You couldn’t be imperfect if you tried.
Believe me.
I will leave this here for you
but equally, I will allow this
to act as a “note to self.”
But trust me –
No one could be more beautiful than you.
It’s true.
I have been thinking about this for a while.
I have been thinking about this
and the other nonsense which I believed
and the mistruths which I assumed were all true,
and how there was something “wrong” with me,
or terribly “wrong”
or unlike anyone else
which I quote the word “wrong” specifically
to illustrate the truth,
which is we seldom realize
the wealth of our natural beauty—and often,
we become misled by ideas
that seem to separate us from our worth
and disrupt us from who we are
or how we want to live.
And I say this here and now –
when you’re a kid,
you just want to be a kid.
You want to laugh or play
or find silly little things
and let them be something big,
or to mean something huge,
like the sun when
the month of June comes around.
Do you know what I mean?
This is when
school is about to become
a thing of the past,
at least for a little while,
and the long lazy days of summer
are about to unfold in a new way,
with no pressure
and no social worries about classmates
or the kids in the hallways,
or the snide remarks from teachers
who fail to reach their students
with poor attitudes
and bad coffee breath.
I have been going over some of the ideas
which came to me when I was young
and you, Mr. Chaos, ah, my old friend. . . .
You were there to keep me guessing
or wondering or better yet,
you were there to keep me stuck between
the margins of comparison
and locked in the mindset that somehow,
I was either less-than,
or faulty or not enough,
or worried that someone
might look at me
. . . and then
they’d see the crookedness in my smile,
or they’ll notice that one of my eyes
is shaped differently
from the other
or that one of my ears is not the same as the other,
which are small differences to some (perhaps)
but to me, and the list went on from here;
all I saw was a reflection of worried insecurities
and all I noticed were a series of flaws
when looking in the mirror.
I never asked to be “that kid.”
I never asked to be stupid
or delayed, or, what were the words they used
oh, yeah . . . emotionally disturbed.
But what is this?
Too small.
Too big.
Too smart.
Too dumb.
Fat or thin,
braces on your teeth or not
or pimples,
or none.
It’s hard enough to live an everyday life,
let alone get lost in
the ideas that somehow
something is wrong . . .
and somehow, everyone is going to see
and then what?
Who would want me now?
Huh?
Isn’t that right, Mr. Chaos.
Isn’t this the guessing game
you’d have me play,
of course,
this is back when the panic attacks
came in like an unwanted rainstorm
fierce as ever
and humiliating too.
So, do you want to talk about it?
Sure,
Why not?
Let’s talk.
There I was, small as ever,
young as could be, and afraid
and too unsure how to inquire
or to afraid to ask for help
and while hoping
for at least a touch of encouragement,
I was too timid and too doubtful
to believe that the hands of fate
had something beautiful in store for me.
But to be honest,
I just wanted to play
or to be free enough to play
and not worry
if my laugh sounded odd
or that somehow,
I was just a stupid kid
or otherwise,
uncool . . .
Man, that’s a tough word
Uncool.
Haunting, to be honest.
But,
there are no thrills in self-pity
nor is there magic in self-doubt
or fears, nor is it helpful
to live with shame
or regret.
I wish someone could have told me
what I am about to tell you—but no one did.
So, I can’t stand by
and not pay this forward.
I have to start by telling you that NOTHING
is wrong with you, and as I say this to you,
while facing the figurative mirror of my own,
I am allowing the child in me
the right to come out, to see the light
and to play in the sun or run in the fields
and go ahead, scream as loud as you want,
is what I would say.
Run and shout.
I’ll be right here, if you need me
and who knows, now that spring has sprung,
maybe we’ll see the world transform,
or although this is minimum
and at a smaller scale than the size of our dreams,
maybe we’ll see a little swarm of bumble bees
circling in flight, and buzzing around the tulips
or maybe a daffodil
just to let us know that yes,
beauty is everywhere—and it starts with you,
and me
which is more true
than anything we could possibly believe . . .
So, good morning, mirror.
Please . . .
let us see something beautiful today, like a sign from above
or, a bumble bee, or
the sun like it looks in the month of June
just before school lets out.
Know what I mean?
The Written Addiction 