Like the Element
At first I thought her name was Barrel. Like the gardening tool.The one that gets weighed down by dirt and rocks until it gets too heavy and tips over, hidding blossoming flower buds beneath the avalanche of grime. The name belonged to a beautiful girl whose constant grin leaned to the right, whose mane of free spirited hair covered her ears and shoulders and baffeled me ,as a living oxymoron of orderly chaos. Her eyes were ethnic and bold, and her voice was her own. She was feminine, even though her colar bone was hidden under layers of vintage clothing.There was no way this girl was Barell. And i was right.
"Beryl," she clairified, "like the element." Ohh.Like the Element. To be honest, I'd never heard of that element before. Then again, I'd never met anyone like Beryl before. You know what's cool about an element? It has nothing to hid under.It's not a compound,co-dependent on something else, or a mixture, a siwrled mess of different entities. It is what it is.Just like Beryl-the girl, I mean. If she's horny, you'll hear about it. If she's happy,she radiates.And if shes angry, she'll blow steam and act pissed to cool her boiling blood. Beryl is soo pure and soo real, soo open and soo raw. She'd risk being vulnerable for honesty.Can you say that for yourself? I can't.
Sometimes she writes about pain and frustration like an umbrella creating a little shadow just over her own head.And because she feels with her whole heart,she feels hard.And writes about it. And she dosn't know, or even have a clue, how envious I am of her ability to liberate herself with her words, to let the public see her bruised, to be herself even when the mood isn't pretty or agreeable. I can write about being forlorn, but never depressed, and agitated, but never hopeless.Even if I am desperate for help,ravenous for attention, craving empathy, I don't have the balls to write it. And she does. Because she's Beryl, shes just herself, and shes proud. I want to be more like Beryl, and not be scared. Have courage.
But the funny thing is, Beryl dosn't even realize how unique and amazing she is.
"Beryl," she clairified, "like the element." Ohh.Like the Element. To be honest, I'd never heard of that element before. Then again, I'd never met anyone like Beryl before. You know what's cool about an element? It has nothing to hid under.It's not a compound,co-dependent on something else, or a mixture, a siwrled mess of different entities. It is what it is.Just like Beryl-the girl, I mean. If she's horny, you'll hear about it. If she's happy,she radiates.And if shes angry, she'll blow steam and act pissed to cool her boiling blood. Beryl is soo pure and soo real, soo open and soo raw. She'd risk being vulnerable for honesty.Can you say that for yourself? I can't.
Sometimes she writes about pain and frustration like an umbrella creating a little shadow just over her own head.And because she feels with her whole heart,she feels hard.And writes about it. And she dosn't know, or even have a clue, how envious I am of her ability to liberate herself with her words, to let the public see her bruised, to be herself even when the mood isn't pretty or agreeable. I can write about being forlorn, but never depressed, and agitated, but never hopeless.Even if I am desperate for help,ravenous for attention, craving empathy, I don't have the balls to write it. And she does. Because she's Beryl, shes just herself, and shes proud. I want to be more like Beryl, and not be scared. Have courage.
But the funny thing is, Beryl dosn't even realize how unique and amazing she is.