We are different.
I’m the short girl in class. I am known for my length and my frizzy hair. I always have been and I probably always will be, but that’s okay because that’s me.
I enjoy reading. I enjoy hiding my head behind a book so that I do not have to be confronted with the screaming reality all around me. Books help me to escape. I cannot stop reading when I know there are still so many books to be read. Reading is how I block out the voices of this world and even the voice in my head.
I love music. Indie, Indie-folk, Indie-alternative, Indie-rock, rock. It depends on my mood, really. I love music, yet I never quite understand how listening to music can be a way of busying oneself. Yes, I enjoy music, the sound, the melody and the words and I do have some songs where I just have to close my eyes and take it all in. But, to me, music is not a verb. It is an adjective, an adverb. It is what I use to block out noise while I work or read, it is my company on long walks or when I am alone. And Goodness help me if I hear another person moan: Music is meant to be listened to, it’s not supposed to be background music. If music is your life, that’s all and well, that’s good, you do you. But please be okay with the fact that music is not all in all my soul’s food, I am not you and you are not me. We are different. And please understand when I say: “you” is not someone I would ever want to be.
I like being alone. Don’t get me wrong, my friends are my home, they’re where I belong. But people are exhausting. After a long day I need to regenerate, yet after a while, I crave human interaction, and if not provided with it I start to hesitate…Am I truly loved/ Does anybody really give a damn? Strange, I know, but that’s just who I am.
I love writing. It is my refuge when my head is filled with words and thoughts. It is the only way that I can face my fears and failures. Yet sometimes I feel unworthy… Like I have no right to write… Like my words are too inexperienced… Yet even though my words are less important or potent than yours I will continue to write for it is an escape and a privileged for which I will fight. I will continue to moan in the ears of the internet and I will not be caught up society’s web that is composed of yells like: WE GET IT, YOU ARE AN EMOTIONAL WRECK, NOW SHUT UP ABOUT IT.
I will not give in to the demands of this tiring world or the voices in my head that tells me that I am unworthy.
I am loved. I am creative. I am a poet, a dreamer, a reader, a writer.
I am still discovering and inventing myself, yet I know that I am this.