People ask me all of the time how I can seem so happy but have such thoughts in my mind. I think about sharing my journal entries all of the time, but I believe now is as great of a time as ever.
Monday:
There's been one set of words everyone seems to throw around that resonates with just about everyone, that gives them the opportunity to penetrate their thought processes. To me, these words always found their way into my heart, where they not only stayed but etched themselves into my soul to remind me of what I lacked. They're the words everyone throws at me every single time I complain about not being loved.
"You have to love and respect yourself before anyone else can love and respect you."
I've always wondered what those words even mean. Sure, I'm not dumb, I know what they mean. But when you really think about them, they're dumb. If a little girl is abused, damaged, and told that no one loves her, how is she supposed to love herself? The reality is that there is absolutely no way for someone to love themselves before others love them because of the very simple fact that there's no reason to love themself if no one else does.
If no one loves you then how can you even know what love is?
Tuesday:
It is raining. As I watch the different drops stomping their way from the freedom of the skies to the still solitude of the grounds, I think about all of the different meanings of water. I make a list of them and put lines next to the ones that find their way into my inner thoughts more than once.
Renewal. Four lines.
Purification. One line.
Life. Two lines.
Transformation. Two lines.
Reflection. Seven lines.
The same thing symbolizes both reflection and transformation. The reflection of your being as you and others know it. The transformation of your being into something else that no one, not even yourself, recognizes. The reflection of your transformation. How can change stand for the same thing as the authenticity of your natural self? This being only one example of how the words of the world deceive not only our eyes, ears, and tongues, but minds and futures as well.
These drops of rain having different meanings is the exact thing that creates the divide between those around the world. Perception varies. Sure, this may create diversity but you tell me where in this world diversity really matters. Because we all know that it is only a buzzword that people use around companies, colleges, high schools, clubs, and other groups because that's what's "in".
Who determines what's right? Who gets to decide?
Wednesday:
Needing versus giving.
As soon as you get the sticker placed on your back that you've been given an 'opportunity', you finished your own sentence of your life. The second you're determined to be gifted but still somehow systematically disadvantaged, you're done. You're seen as someone who is in need rather than someone who can give.
An opportunity. It is only 11 letters that stand for those who are greater giving to those who are less. Opportunities are only given to those who are somehow declared in need.
The second you're someone in need, it's up to you to decide whether or not you want to be a person of need or a person of giving.
Thursday:
My skin is pale. My skin has the lives of all the oppressed sewn tightly within it. My skin is a symbol of the pain it has caused others for no reason deemed even somewhat acceptable. My skin is white. Her skin is brass. Her skin contains the years of wear that my skin has caused her. Her skin is a symbol of persistence and fight. Her skin is black. Side by side, our skin is hope.
We are lines. Each of us individually are solid lines placed here on the graph that is the world, designed to form our own pictures. Me, my whiteness, a straight line. Her, her blackness, a straight line. One is not greater than the other, wider than the other, superior to the other. Our lines are different, sure, but there is a place where our lines touch. Our lines are perpendicular. Though we, as humans, may take different paths based on decisions, there is still one place where we meet. One spot where we connect and are the same. We are not opposites.
Together, we are hope.
Friday:
In every day, there is a little bit of death.
