agirl who calls me hero
I never thought of myself as a hero. I would laugh at anyone who says i'm someone. let alone a someone which another person looks up to.
In my mind...i'm a frazzled, confused, misplaced and unaware girl.
But for a few moments i got to step into the mind of another girl. A girl not much different than myself. A girl, who calls me a hero.
Whose eyes light up at the site of me. Whose plans she would change in an instant to accommodate the silliness of my own.
As i stepped through her room...i saw my own...literally and figuratively, as she's kept some of my old things.
i saw her passions; the many that she has. I saw her works. The art...and the words she uses...they were the same as mine and still are to this day. Even her thoughts were the same...the feeling of the room was slightly familar. I realized her struggles are the same as mine were...and still are.
To her, i must have surpassed them all with ease. i must be that someone she wants to see in herself. She is me...my awkwardness, my longing, the desires...of a 12 year old me, 15 year old me, and of a 20 year old me. she is me.
although, she is that someone i want to see in myself. That little bit extra I hadn't acquired in growing up. The bravery and talent i'd always wanted. The thirst for knowledge and courage to give it all she's got. I keep asking how someone as well rounded and together as a twelve year old gets, looks up to someone like me. My actions, my thoughts, my soul..reflect onto her...They mean something to her. Everything i say counts to this girl. It's a weird feeling for me. To be looked up to as apposed to looked down upon.
From the minutes i spent in that room...i took away more than i had thought i could. I appreciate the fact that she see's me worthy of a hero...and she, in return is a hero to me.
In my mind...i'm a frazzled, confused, misplaced and unaware girl.
But for a few moments i got to step into the mind of another girl. A girl not much different than myself. A girl, who calls me a hero.
Whose eyes light up at the site of me. Whose plans she would change in an instant to accommodate the silliness of my own.
As i stepped through her room...i saw my own...literally and figuratively, as she's kept some of my old things.
i saw her passions; the many that she has. I saw her works. The art...and the words she uses...they were the same as mine and still are to this day. Even her thoughts were the same...the feeling of the room was slightly familar. I realized her struggles are the same as mine were...and still are.
To her, i must have surpassed them all with ease. i must be that someone she wants to see in herself. She is me...my awkwardness, my longing, the desires...of a 12 year old me, 15 year old me, and of a 20 year old me. she is me.
although, she is that someone i want to see in myself. That little bit extra I hadn't acquired in growing up. The bravery and talent i'd always wanted. The thirst for knowledge and courage to give it all she's got. I keep asking how someone as well rounded and together as a twelve year old gets, looks up to someone like me. My actions, my thoughts, my soul..reflect onto her...They mean something to her. Everything i say counts to this girl. It's a weird feeling for me. To be looked up to as apposed to looked down upon.
From the minutes i spent in that room...i took away more than i had thought i could. I appreciate the fact that she see's me worthy of a hero...and she, in return is a hero to me.