I'd die...

Apr 11, 2010 02:36

if you only met my eyes.
Before you pass by,
will you pause to break my heart.

Been caught stealing.

I didn't mean to say "I don't think I've ever said that." to Nathan earlier. Because I quite probably did say it, it sounds familiar even. What I meant to say to Nathan is "I need a moment to remember the context in which I would have said that."

I've had that moment and I have remembered the context.

The statement that I have made (now I am sure on at least two occasions) was this:

"I am the smartest person I know."

All on it's own there it looks so vain and insulting!
Nathan was sure I said it at least somewhat in jest, and if that was true I would be able to come away from it looking less like an ass.

The fact is that I know I am as smart as any of my friends. Our areas of knowledge differ greatly but the value of our knowledge puts us on equal footing in every way except for one.

None of them believe I am as smart as they are.
They are unable to comprehend the equality of our worth.
It's simple math.
If they were as smart as me they would be able to see that I am as smart as them.
So until the day they are actually able to figure this out, I will remain the smartest person I know.

I am also as smart as my husband, but unfortunately he dose not think he is as smart as me.
Again this comes down to the math.

Once they all realizes our worth is equally great then I will no longer be the smartest person I know, and this will make me very happy.

But until then I stand by my statement.

180 Degrees Of Sky: part 1

I'd like to tell it to you in the perfect order. I'd like you to read it and enjoy all the complicated bits and pieces clicking together to form a brilliant truth. I'd like to show you that all the chaos makes perfect sense if only you'd line it up in the right order. I'd like for you to know what I know without confusing or boring anyone along the way.

Unfortunately, it can never work that way. The only way for anyone to actually know what I know is for them to get lost along with me in my stories, and to consider them. It'd be nice to claim these stories are amazing creations from my imagination alone, but the truth is I only really ever write about me.

The very first thing I remember is of me having a memory. I must have been about four years old. I walked but still crawled for the sheer joy of it. I had made my way to the double door closet upstairs, the one in our hall leading to the bathroom, where mommy put the towels and extra bedding. It was open on both sides and smelled of clean. Mommy was doing laundry, I could hear her folding towels in her bedroom, a quiet sound but one I understood already. I liked closets, they felt safe and friendly and good to sleep in. As I looked into the closet I saw something familiar. I didn't have a word for it, or any name to attach to it, but I remembered that it was warm and safe and good. I managed to half pull it out of the closet and into the hall and had the strong sensation I now relate to coming home from a long trip.

As a single mother, my mommy did not always have as many resources as some, and the floral printed baby carrier that doubled as a car seat was like a godsend to her. She tells me now that I spent a lot of time in it, and that I slept better in it than in my crib.

Little pink roses on white vinyl is what my four year old eyes saw, and coming home from a very long trip is what my four year old heart felt and I tried to climb into the little baby carrier that could no longer hold me. It was then that my mommy came over, called me by the name I knew was mine and said sorry. "I'm sorry sweetie, that's to small for you now. Lets put it away." And she did, and as she did I waved bye-bye to the place that was safe and warm and good.

I think that because it was done warmly and with care, that I was able to let go peacefully. I think it was the defining moment in my life.
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