Monday, August 1, 2016

Two More Weeks

In two more weeks, I can breathe. I hope. 

In two more weeks, I can open up.

In two more weeks, I can have some sort of freedom over my mind and heart. 

I'm changing. I want people to know why, although conclusions have already been drawn, details and dotted lines will be crossed through. I'll feel better. 

In the meantime, I'm still changing. 

I turned a light off several months ago. One that got blown out and needed time to reboot. Then a persistent, outside force began to watch some of that dim heat start to rise again. The outside force being the reason why it's begun to flicker today. There's the dilemma though. Do I thank it? Do I thank it for helping me out of hiding? Or do I curse it for nicking a bulb that was already scratched?

I'm a generally happy person. I have bitter moments, but I don't want that bitterness to fester or for it to bleed into my life, my relationships or my experiences. And my 2016 has been filled to the brim with sour time, so much so that I'm desperately trying to turn that around. Some call it survival mode, but I call it, well, my state of grace. 

I'm also a rather expressive person. That's the writer in me, I'm sure. I share a lot. Maybe too much at times, not enough at others. But that's the one thing I'm profoundly confident in - my ability to communicate and talk about my feelings no matter how embarrassing they are. Tonight, my feelings are hurt for a variety of reasons, some fresher than others. But I'm hoping that all these sappy, cheesy, vulnerable moments are just a path for me to reach something grander in the scheme of my life thus far. 

Maybe I'll be a published author one day. Maybe I'll write a screenplay, and someone will like it enough to make it come to life. Maybe I'll sell some lyrics. Maybe I'll enjoy my hometown and raise the most beautiful little girl that I've ever laid my eyes on. I'll travel. I'll keep my friends close. Maybe I'll always be trusting of people and get my heart broken over every word unkept. 

But don't be that person to a person like me. Don't offer up whimsy and plans without an urgency to make it come to fruition. Don't knowingly take fire to someone's softened heart just to watch it melt a little before locking it back in a cage filled with ice. Be the person that embraces her awkward dances in the corner and terrible laugh. Be the person that finds her word vomit endearing and refreshing. Be the person that realizes there's a gem somewhere inside that just needs a bit of polishing to feel brand new again. It won't take much. I promise. 
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