Rejection

Rejection. Who knew that rejection and forgiveness could co-exist? That I could admit, even rejoice, in the fact that I no longer want to be a part of your life. Reject everything you do for me, everything you stand for in my mind. Reject your spineless behaviour, your selfish intentions, your obscure jealousy… and somehow find a hidden love. The kind of love that ignites compassion. I can feel the pain of your losses, feel the pain I’ve left you with, and the pain you inflict on yourself as you begin to self-destruct. Feel empathy, because for the first time, I realize I have been in that place as well. I realize that the similarities that we had previously recognized run deeper than either of us could have imagined. To deep for us to peacefully exist within each other’s lives. I’m not angry anymore, because I know that we will never fight again. I won’t be in your life and you won’t be in mine, but for the first time I hope that yours is prosperous, full of good things, all windows and no walls. I want you to find peace somewhere, because I love you. This final rejection has allowed the hate in my heart to turn into an empathetic love. I reject you, I love you, and I wish you all the best.

What's underneath

Who am I? it seems like everywhere I go, everyone I talk to, I have to put on a different mask. And with all the masks, I think I’ve almost forgotten who I am. I can be stupid and perky, I can be quiet and intelligent, but is the intelligence only a pathetic attempt at a façade, or is the stupidity how my insecurities choose to manifest themselves in public? I always thought I was assertive, that no one would ever push me around. So why, all the sudden, am I looking to others for suggestions on the way I should act, the way I should talk, how much I should drink, and the list goes on… my frustrations keep mounting, as I continue to lose sight of who I am. I’ve never been certain of who I am, but I don’t think I’ve ever been this confused before. I feel alone, lost, like I don’t have even myself to leave on. Changing masks can be helpful sometimes, but it takes a lot of energy. And sometimes, if you have too many masks, you can start to forget what’s underneath them.

Fearless

Fear. Something that has always haunted me. Always been the dark angel lurking around the corner in my life. I’m walking down a light hallway, candles one every inch of every wall, yet the smallest shadow seems to hold in it the largest demons one could imagine. It follows me constantly. Never let’s go, never takes a break, and never allows me to catch my breath between frights. It’s that voice that tells me not to go there, not to do that, and to some extent it protects me from what could be dangerous. Fear is like an older brother. A long-time companion, always looking out for me, never allowing me to walk into danger. Constantly aggravating, yet slightly painful to let go of. But fear is not my friend. It consumes me. It has caused far more harm to me, then anything I could ever be afraid of. As Napoleon once said, “The torment of precautions often exceeds the dangers to be avoided.” The problematic factor being my failure to understand this when I am afraid. Perhaps the most feared thing I could have imagined is seeking help for my fear. Go to someone and say “ I’m always afraid”. Having the courage to admit I am afraid is one of the hardest things I will ever find the courage to do. Yet I did it. I asked for help. I didn’t want to be afraid anymore. Now I’m better, the fear no longer haunts me. I fear being fearless changes me, but perhaps that change is for the better. So I’ll give it a shot, at least for now. So, this is me, living life unafraid. For however long the courage to do so may last. And if I can find the courage to live unafraid, there is nothing I cannot do.