“To the ones who just let it be instead of changing their fate, and the fate of others. To the ones that forgot to call, or show up on time.”
Did I spend 21 years right? Did I appreciate every sunset properly? There’s still time. There will always be time for me to speak up when someone asks me to explain myself, but sometimes the words aren’t enough. That sentence itself took a lot to write because I feel that just like my answers, time isn’t even enough.
Am I the woman my mother would be proud of? Am I the daughter my father hoped to have one day?
I have nothing but the utmost respect for my parents and the way they raised me. I look both ways, while crossing the street, and both ways whilst questioning my own judgement. Even when I’m down on myself, they remind me that the imperfections that I often trace along my body with my fingertips, are art.
We’re always scanning busy rooms for familiar faces. I heard my mother’s voice in my head, and spoke up and said, “I don’t deserve this.” When I got the words “deserve what?” as my response, I let my chest sink in, and knew that the flame burnt out. If you’re reading this, the answer isn’t in here. It’s still with me, and darling deep in your heart you know what it is.
I experienced a “The Moment I Knew” scenario last week and it broke my heart. Twice. Three. Four times actually. How is she still standing after everything we’ve read on here. I’ll be honest with you, I have never felt so much in such a short amount of time. Now my taste in men may be one of my character flaws, but my lionheart is the thing I take pride in the most. Because it got me here, it taught me that emotions aren’t a weakness, and every time I’m faced with a dial tone I learn to do better next time. Even if they won’t. I will.
If you’re wondering what’s harder than taking the courage to fight for your own emotions, it’s the other side asking why you’re fighting in the first place, and what you’re fighting for. They make it seem as though you were making this up in your mind the entire time. But I cannot fight for the people who dropped their weapons and left me at war against myself. Especially when they were the ones calling at 3am, and lighting up rooms made up of windows. There’s no warmer feeling than that I say, other than a nice glass of Tanqueray you’d say.
Because even at 21 I’m still learning through my mistakes, but I will never forget how precious time is. I sewed on this beautiful pink patch onto the back of my jean jacket that says, “Give em Hell” and it’s not in a spiteful sense, it’s for everything ranging from anxiety and the Universe. It’s my reminder to put up a fight when I want to stay silent. It’s a sign to everyone walking behind me that this is just the beginning.