Pulling a Trick – Entry Three

I wish there was a button somewhere.
I wish there was something I could do or say and just like that, any ache or pain, or any moment of sadness would turn off, or become invisible, and then fade away.
I wish there was something I could do to erase the ideas or the thoughts, or if this were possible, I wish that I could erase the times when you thought you were anything other than beautiful.
I wish there was a button.
Maybe there is and I haven’t found it yet.
But I am looking.

Or maybe that’s what this is.
Maybe this is my way of looking for the button. Or maybe sending this out to the universe is my way of pushing the button and, hopefully, this leads us both to something desirable.

I have never been sure why we question ourselves. I’m not sure why we doubt ourselves as much as we do.
I have never been sure as to why we see other people as more or better.
I don’t know why we look at other people and see them as more worthy than we are. I don’t know why we look at other people and see them as a better fit for this world or why we believe they deserve their place in the circle more than we do.
Meanwhile, we are all here at the same place. You and I are here at the same time. We are all figures and statistics, and parts of some greater equation. We are all part of this race and part of the maze, which we call life, as we are all looking to find our purpose.
Everyone needs to find their reason. We all want to know that we are valid and not some wasted shell of a person who simply exists.
I want to mean something too.
I want to find my worth and enjoy myself.
I want to find my purpose and be glad to know that I have a reason to be here. But then again, we all have a reason to be here.

I have never been so sure as to who it is or why some people are seen as more beautiful or more pleasant than others. Where does attraction come from and why has beauty become so commercialized?

I was never sure who gets to pick the trends or who sets the standards for today’s fashion. Who gets to give the nod as to who is beautiful?
Why do we have to compare?
Why does beauty have to be one way; whereas, I know that there are beautiful things and I know that not everything, at first glance, is seen correctly—but beauty is deeper than flesh. Yes, I think beauty comes in all shapes and sizes, colors, creeds, thoughts, identities and, of course, I do believe that beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

So, please accept me as your biggest fan.

I am unsure about the reasons we pick ourselves apart. I am unsure as to why we see ourselves in certain lights, or why we compare ourselves to other people.
Why can’t we celebrate who we are and learn to enjoy that we are not the same and that it is beautiful to be different?

I have never been sure where or why or how insecurity begins.
At the same time, I know when, where, and how my insecurities began.
I know all about my symptoms.

I understand the need and the fascinations and the different assignments of popularity. I understand the difference in fashion and the difference in taste.
I like what I like and you like what you like.
Where is the law that says we have to like the same thing?

I wish there was a button.
I wish I could find this button and push it.
Then I would be fine to smile and be fine enough to think about how I was able to save someone from their own scrutiny.
I would never wish this on anyone.

I have been at this for years. I’ve been trying to improve and better myself, one day at a time.
I do not regard my younger years or the so-called drug years anymore.
That’s not me and that’s not been me for more than 33 years.
I am trying to find the path of enlightenment. I am trying to find a place where I can sit back and be comfortable, just the way I am.
But that’s only part of my trick.
I have been working to find different ways to explain the need to fit or the need to be happy or to feel satisfied. I know that I am not alone with my discomforts. I am not the only person who lives with doubts and insecurity. However, I understand that some people do not have the words or the language to explain what they think or feel.
I suppose this is why I try my best to be descriptive. I do this with hopes that my analogies are enough to paint a vivid picture to which, rather than read about my thoughts, you can see them, as in live, right before your face.

I have been working on different explanations to help people who cannot find the words to explain why they see themselves as ugly or undesirable. At the same time, there is something mind-blowing about the beauty of others. It amazes me when someone (like you) walks in the room and fails to realize how the mood changes, just because they’ve arrived.

It amazes me when someone like you fails to realize the brilliance of your smile or the wealth of your presence and how when you hug me, I’m not sure, but I swear this is better than any cure I can think off. To some degree, this is the only cure for cancer of the heart (or my soul).
I can understand the threat of absence or why someone would miss you, simply because they’re not with you. I can see this and I understand why the world is a better place . . .
(because of you).

I know what’s popular.
I know about the fancy clothes and the name-brand assemblies and how the different grades of status can lead someone to seem more appealing. But I also see something about you that I’ve never seen before.
You never buy into that.
You’ve taught me the same thing.
I’m sorry that I fail to listen at times.

I know what it’s like to want and I know what it’s like to have and I know all about excess.
On the other hand, I can say that I have met plenty of miserable millionaires. They have everything and they’re still unhappy.
I have met people with all the fancy things, the nice houses, vacation homes, trips to Europe, a great job in the C-suites and keys to the executive washroom.
You’ve seen them too.
I know this because you work for them.
You know who they are, unfulfilled as could be, a healthy bank account, and whether they travel around the world and see all of the great things—I have heard people who live this way, and still, they report they loneliness and discuss their empty features of seeing the world and having no one to share this with.
I know about voids and emptiness. I have heard people who live with every gift, yet all the money in the world could never fill the void within their heart.

I wish I could push a button and make this go away.
I wish I could do this for myself.
At the same time, I am well aware that this button does not exist, which is not to say that beauty does not exist.
However, I suppose in my efforts to reach you, I think it is only necessary to expose my own truths and fears.

I live with the constant idea that I am somehow, less-than, or faulted and flawed.
I live with the inaccuracies that I am ugly, that my eyes are not shaped the same, that I am funny looking, and that my teeth are mangled.

I wish I could push a button and remove the voices from years ago.
I wish I never fed the meters in my head, which calculate the times when I was either hurt or insulted. Thus, I find that I invest my energy in ideas that do not serve me well.
Maybe this could stop, if I were able to find that button.
(No?)

I have had my share of bullies. I have had my share of insults and memories which have caused me to doubt who I am, simply because someone came along and looked to hurt me and put a wedge between me and my better self.

I wish that I could push a button and rather than fear that my choices or my taste is uncool or unpopular, I could learn to celebrate my sense of individuality. I could be fine and enjoy my life by exploring my uniqueness and acknowledging that beauty is different, all over.
I am a different kind of beautiful,
at least I hope to be.

I wish you knew that despite what you see or what you tell me, and despite what you say about yourself (sometimes), there is nothing ugly about you.

At least, not to me.
I’m sorry if no one else has told you this. I am sorry that no one else learned how to celebrate you and your personality. I am sorry that no one told you that who you are and how you are is not only fitting in the right circumstances; but more, I am sorry that no one told you that you sat with the wrong people and that’s why you believed that you didn’t fit.
And you didn’t . . .
But this is why we had to learn to get up and move.
We have to make our own way and find our own circle. When we do, I swear, it’s going to be like that dream I’ve had about old New Mexico, and a long drive with no intention except, of course, to find a place that makes a great peach pie.

We have all seen our fair share of social predators. We know about the people who look to create questions or better yet, we have all seen or met people who love to prey on insecurity.
You know the ones.
They walk around and look for weakness, as if their projection and intention to create chaos in your soul is nothing more than an angry reflection of them and their ugly flaws.

By the way . . .
Anyone who tells you that you are ugly is ugly themselves.
What an ugly thing to do—to point out flaws or to cause concern or to plant the seeds for insecure ideas. As for those who enjoy this, what a sad, pathetic life they must have.

How awful for them?
How terrible?
How sad is someone who loves to instill worry and doubt, as if this is their job, or their pleasure. Simply put, this is nothing but an angry move to validate them and their miserable existence.
Fuck that.

I say to hell with the bullies.
I say to hell with the people who look to cause pain.
I say to hell with the social predators.

I say to hell with them and their character assassinations and to hell with their gossip mills and rumor factories.
I say that I wish I could push a button and erase this from the world.
I wish I could erase all the remnants of their sad and emotional executions, and their social lies, to which I have seen people held captive and somewhat forever imprisoned to the belief that they are somehow ugly, just because some asshole came along and told them this was true.

I wish I could push a button and wipe away the true crime, which is not just the instance or the moment when someone came along to point out your flaws. No, and since I am you and you are me, and since I remember, and since I can still recall the moments, when an entire classroom erupted with laughter (at our expense) or since I know all about our demons and secrets, and since I know all about our fears, as in up-close, and personal, then I say to hell with the lies. To hell with the bullshit. To hell with the misdiagnosed versions of ugly or beauty because, in all honesty, no one in the world is as beautiful as you.

No one is better than you.
No one can do what you do.
No one else has your talent. Even if someone else has the same dream, this does not mean that they have the same desire to achieve it.

I say this because the biggest crime that comes with bullying isn’t the initial crime itself. No, it’s the remnants of our memory or the aspect that lingers, or the time we spend by reliving or rethinking what we could have said or what we wished we said.

I have lived my entire life with the belief that I am ugly.
And maybe I am, to some people.
But that’s fine.
It takes an ugly soul to see nothing but the ugliness in people.
It takes a cruel and ugly heart to walk around and diagnose, judge, or point at people, as if to say, “look at that sorry son of a bitch!” and then laugh.

I don’t want to be that ugly ever again.
I don’t want to be ugly, period.

I just want to be me.
I suppose this is the biggest trick of all.
This is the trick I want to pull off more than anything else.
I want to be myself without an apology, and to let go of my old demons who whisper too loud, and to free myself from the mental prison.
I want to escape the bondage of my old predictions.
I want to stand in the sunlight, and to play pretend, or to let the child play; and more, I want to live, love, laugh, and learn without concern, without regret, and without the toxic ideas that come from people, places, and things, which no longer exist.

You can come out now, kid.
There are plenty of games to play.
We can run in the playground.
We can swing on the swing set, if you’d like.
We can scream out loud and laugh as long as we’d like.
We can talk about anything.
Anything at all.
There is no dedication to outside opinion because the only opinion that matter is ours.

I want to push the button.
I want to wipe away the sins from your soul and the doubt from your spirit.

Spread your wings, like an airplane, kid.
Me and you are about to fly.

It’s okay. You can come out now.
All the bullies are gone now.
And even if they come back, I swear to chase them off.
But you have to promise me that you’ll always be who you are, which is beautiful.

Beautiful as ever!