“He licked his lips. “Well, if you want my opinion–”
“I don’t,” she said. “I have my own.” — Toni Morrison, Beloved
I no longer wish to be defined by the beings whom didn’t smile back in the past.
Let me re-do that sentence.
I will no longer be defined by the beings
who didn’t smile back in the past.
Still not right.
I will no longer be defined by anything/anyone.
Whew, okay let’s do this.
If you’re concerned about the term defined itself, I’ve recently noticed how many of us are defined by our past decisions, and connections.
How can you be defined by a person whose laugh so unfamiliar to you because you would only hear it out of spite. Women and Men are often referred to by the people they once cared about, a neglected identity characteristic that we’ve spent almost 20 something years creating. To the point where they’ll no longer want people to know much about them. We start to tiptoe around conversations leading towards “Who’s been keeping you awake at 2 am,” because hush we’ve already said enough. It’s April and you deserve an emotional get-away, so let me be that.
Shouldn’t we celebrate the clean slate? That WHITE BLANK PAGE. Where we no longer question why we weren’t good enough, but why they weren’t quick enough to realize that we were?
When I reference back to old posts it’s not out of nostalgia but more of a guide because you’ve read so much, or you don’t know the story, but it’s to tell you where I was at a certain point and where I am now. Back to the word story, there’s no names here, just sentences, and a voice getting louder per post. When I wrote Clean in April, I wasn’t. That tub photo was ridiculously dramatic, and a poor decision after a late night. But it showed me how much a person could take, and the result of what metaphorically putting your foot down can do. I trust more than anything that everything I’ve written, everything I’ve done, and each circumstance resulted in this.
I’m not done learning, there will be many more souls and clouded minds that will attempt to force me to take two steps back. But if they wanted to they would’ve, therefore if somebody has the opportunity to pick up where you left off, let them.
“Isn’t it like the weight of the world being taken off your chest?”
“It’s more like water in my lungs, finally circling the drain”
There was a moment where I didn’t want to wear my favourite pair of Levi’s because they just didn’t feel right on me anymore. Something so miniature as that, represented the fact that I was getting rid of these parts of myself, because they weren’t desired nor appreciated. But in turn, I learned to slowly fall back in love with the loose jeans, bare faced, short-haired version of myself.
Here I am now, I’m back to the place of privacy where I’ll be writing to a different mind without them knowing it. A part of me wishes to profess it immediately to open up a new window of communication, found in metaphors and mumbled words in parenthesis. But another part of me doesn’t remember how it feels to write on a blank page. But if you’re reading, all of this was worth saying. And if you’re fumbling on your own words, and tempted by the idea to just go head first, do so.
Welcome to Clean