(no subject)
well here is something that i started to write last night...
its not done yet...
opinions please?
Beyond The Mirror
Beyond those blue eyes staring back at me so curiously, there is a world that I cannot understand. There’s a story with a different end every time, there’s a whole different person staring back at me. I can’t comprehend the meaning behind this, only that there is more to life than we can see. This thin piece of reflective glass is what’s keeping me beyond that world. Beyond the blonde hair and tan skin, there’s a perspective. A perspective of what people should be like, but are not. An idea behind each phrase, a consequence to every action and a nightmare to every dream.
I stay still as a statue, just staring at my own reflection. What story do my eyes tell this time? What message is my body language sending me? The story I see is one of pain and sorrow, of happiness and joy, of friendship and loss. Body language; quite an important feature. It tells me I think I’m worthless and that I’m insecure, it tells me I can’t trust other people. It tells me that what may seem to be, isn’t real. How does one go about analyzing themselves in such detail? Observation, my friend, is a true gift in the human nature.
It all started in kindergarten. I remember sitting in a circle with the other innocent children, sharing stories, doing show and tell, playing Simon says, and spending snack time together. As quickly as we had bonded, we departed. We grew into our own people with our own images, our own ideas and beliefs. I remember learning to write my name. I couldn’t always spell it properly, considering it was long for an inexperienced child. As we all grew up together, we slowly grew apart and started disliking each other. As a mother may turn on her young after someone has handled them, this is what it felt like. The only difference was that our teachers were our mothers who were trying to keep us, their young, from turning on each other. This was to no success of course.
I slowly came to realize that I didn’t fit into any portrait that had been painted over these infuriating years. I always stood out. I was different than what they expected me to be. My music was different, my clothes were different, and for this, I wasn’t accepted. Everyone, at some point or another, desires to be accepted in with the ‘popular’ kids, or the ‘in-crowd’. I despised every single one of them. That was never a desire of mine. I knew that if, by some chance, they ever accepted me, the joke would be on me. They’d all turn on me in an instant, disowning me, shooing me away as a scavenger does to those who may take his meal. I would have been swallowed up, and spat back out.
As I stand here now, looking at myself, wondering who I am, I wonder what would have happened if I had been accepted. Would things have been better? Would I be the person I am now, with the perspective I have and the beliefs I surround myself with? I cannot answer those questions, but one thing I do know when I look into this piece of glass, is that I am different. I can’t look at myself and expect to fit in when I was born to stand out. No one can take that away, not even myself. I’ve tried to push it away, but I have not yet been able to. It’s come to the point where I’ve just accepted myself and stopped altering myself for other people.
What I cannot understand the most that is on my mind every day, is how can someone walk into your life so suddenly and just as fast as they have walked in, vanish? I remember looking into her eyes those often times I did so, thinking she was perfect. I knew that we were meant to be together. We quickly became friends. We’d spend every waking moment together. From the few minutes between classes to lunch time at school, to hours on end outside in the warm Autumn breeze, or the sleepless nights of sleepovers, we were inseparable.
its not done yet...
opinions please?
Beyond The Mirror
Beyond those blue eyes staring back at me so curiously, there is a world that I cannot understand. There’s a story with a different end every time, there’s a whole different person staring back at me. I can’t comprehend the meaning behind this, only that there is more to life than we can see. This thin piece of reflective glass is what’s keeping me beyond that world. Beyond the blonde hair and tan skin, there’s a perspective. A perspective of what people should be like, but are not. An idea behind each phrase, a consequence to every action and a nightmare to every dream.
I stay still as a statue, just staring at my own reflection. What story do my eyes tell this time? What message is my body language sending me? The story I see is one of pain and sorrow, of happiness and joy, of friendship and loss. Body language; quite an important feature. It tells me I think I’m worthless and that I’m insecure, it tells me I can’t trust other people. It tells me that what may seem to be, isn’t real. How does one go about analyzing themselves in such detail? Observation, my friend, is a true gift in the human nature.
It all started in kindergarten. I remember sitting in a circle with the other innocent children, sharing stories, doing show and tell, playing Simon says, and spending snack time together. As quickly as we had bonded, we departed. We grew into our own people with our own images, our own ideas and beliefs. I remember learning to write my name. I couldn’t always spell it properly, considering it was long for an inexperienced child. As we all grew up together, we slowly grew apart and started disliking each other. As a mother may turn on her young after someone has handled them, this is what it felt like. The only difference was that our teachers were our mothers who were trying to keep us, their young, from turning on each other. This was to no success of course.
I slowly came to realize that I didn’t fit into any portrait that had been painted over these infuriating years. I always stood out. I was different than what they expected me to be. My music was different, my clothes were different, and for this, I wasn’t accepted. Everyone, at some point or another, desires to be accepted in with the ‘popular’ kids, or the ‘in-crowd’. I despised every single one of them. That was never a desire of mine. I knew that if, by some chance, they ever accepted me, the joke would be on me. They’d all turn on me in an instant, disowning me, shooing me away as a scavenger does to those who may take his meal. I would have been swallowed up, and spat back out.
As I stand here now, looking at myself, wondering who I am, I wonder what would have happened if I had been accepted. Would things have been better? Would I be the person I am now, with the perspective I have and the beliefs I surround myself with? I cannot answer those questions, but one thing I do know when I look into this piece of glass, is that I am different. I can’t look at myself and expect to fit in when I was born to stand out. No one can take that away, not even myself. I’ve tried to push it away, but I have not yet been able to. It’s come to the point where I’ve just accepted myself and stopped altering myself for other people.
What I cannot understand the most that is on my mind every day, is how can someone walk into your life so suddenly and just as fast as they have walked in, vanish? I remember looking into her eyes those often times I did so, thinking she was perfect. I knew that we were meant to be together. We quickly became friends. We’d spend every waking moment together. From the few minutes between classes to lunch time at school, to hours on end outside in the warm Autumn breeze, or the sleepless nights of sleepovers, we were inseparable.