I don’t know exactly when my dreams became broken, but I do know that it was due to my fears. Remember when we first knew what we wanted to be when we grew up?
Remember, when we had our very first daydream of what we could become?
Mine was to be a famous fashion designer
one day. I taught myself to draw and I’d create my own designs in the 6th and 7th grade until
doubt in myself set in. Then fake people who I knew didn’t like me began demanding thier attention when I knew they didn’t deserve it.
It confused me I guess. And I lost my confidence. The fear of failure. The fear of not being able to succeed. The fear of success, demand and not meeting expectations. Just thinking too damn much about all of this pushed my dreams further and further away until they vanished. My fears have kept me under it’s spell ever since.
Even free online courses to teach you how to build websites or
- Learn Mobile App Development and create and sell mobile apps
- Learn a different language and become an online translator
- Provide editorial advice and writing services
- How to start a blog or vlog
I’ve always been curious myself about this…
I didn’t ask to be. I just am. Since day one
First teased because I spoke differently.
Age five it was made clear to me, being told that I spoke too “properly” and I’ve
never forgotten it since. Can you imagine being teased for something you can’t control? I’m sure you can and I understand. But you refuse to understand why I can’t. You see, I’m different. We’re all different and “age ain’t nothing but a number” when it comes to feelings and emotions. I wouldn’t expect you to understand me. Being called the white girl in the black suit and even being called Zebra girl. Being teased for something as trivial as acting or speaking differently. Then running to hide like a poor frightened cat. I wouldn’t expect you to understand. I shouldn’t expect you to understand. Not when I’m different from my family and I’m made to feel banned. Her, her, him, him and then there’s me. The one whose always looked at oddly. The one whose always looked at regardless causing me to hate me. I wouldn’t expect you to understand. The little girl reading Sweet Valley High, Beverly Cleary and Judy Bloom. The girl who was left all alone in a room. Not chosen, not picked, not talented they assumed. When proving everyone wrong, I got pulled out of the girls bathroom. Panties around my thighs, pleading with them as I cried. Kids can be so cruel. Adults can be so cruel. Life can be so cruel. Because I’m still a black sheep when I hear myself speak which isn’t that often until last week. I was recording a conversation as proof of abuse only to hear myself speak that even I’d have disapproved. I can see why now, I’m the black sheep among my peers I appear weak.
Vacant, hollow, and in need of restoration
Gutted, empty, but structurally sound
Would you walk inside and ascend it’s stairwell?
Would you check each chamber to see the beauty inside?
On the main floor a parlor, a bedroom, an office and a sitting. Do you think it has potential? Or do you find it unfitting?
Would you modify it to fit your needs or leave it as is, appreciating it’s ingenuity
Would you be interested in buying this historical forgotten heart? That I own and no longer want, but I believe is still a work of art
So I’ll sell it now at the going price. You could fix it up and decorate it as you’d like
February 8, 2016
You can stay here
You have enough food, power, security
You can stay here
For the rest of your life,
you can stay here
But you shouldn’t stay here
You can’t expect such splendid guests
Such as yourself to show up
If you stay here
You’ll be alone
You were alone
Everything is about people
Everything in this life is worth a damn
It couldn’t be just me
It shouldn’t be just you
October 23, 2016
Artwork by Helen Rose
The nonlinear relationships between creativity and mental illness
I love this site. I learn quite a lot