Fear your mind and smile March 23, 2012
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Timing isn’t my forte. I have a terrible habit of arriving ten minutes late to just about everything, I’ll make you wait if I know I can and I haven’t worn proper tennis shoes in the past month. I don’t always brush my teeth in the morning or shower at a particular time, it’s always just been when I feel like and what feels good to me. I cook for myself, try to eat healthy but no matter what I do I feel trapped. Oh and I have a secret fear of ant hills and a sudden craving for a chocolate glazed cake donut.
Is that bizarre?
I feel like I’ve come up with this image of myself, a pair of shoes I stare at across the room. A pair of 6 inch heels, gorgeous and way above my budget but I keep trying to work and save until I get there but along the way I drop some cash on food, on charity work and I wonder if all the work I’m doing is really worth it? Are the shoes really my color? Could I even walk in a heel that high, comfortably? What if I fell and sprained my ankles, unable to walk because of this sick, demented vision of me, 125 pounds, sleek legs in these incredibly beautiful shoes- me incredibly beautiful, a force to be reckoned with?
I see myself walking slowly, comfortable with the current state of being until I get scared, fed up and I walk faster and faster til I’m sprinting up a mountain and I fall exhausted and so sick of chasing a dream I’ll never fufill. Turns out the heels weren’t really what I wanted, I always wanted so much more out of myself and I don’t know if I can be her. I don’t know that I can be this image I have in my head- the powerful queen and the apathetic giver, the perfect girlfriend and daughter while staying true to myself. And the worst part isn’t that I’ve been sitting on the top of this mountain crying as the air sweeps past my face. The worst part isn’t even that my tears have now froze against my face, it’s that I can’t find myself crying anymore- I stare, searching for the tears I can feel quivering in my soul yet they aren’t emerging.
They’re like toxins sitting in my system, sucking me dry and I feel so alone on this mountain. Alone because although I’m surrounded by people- those above and below my new-found perch, the spot next to me full and smiling, there’s no one sitting in my place. I can hear the voices the thoughts of others but the only one I find myself listening to is that of the wind.
I notice how it shifts the blades of grass between my suddenly bare feet, how it causes a nearby stream to sway and how I’m so sad yet so content with this solitary I’ve found.
My mountain is a paradise for my mind when it doesn’t stray to thoughts of loneliness and insignificance. My mountain is perfect except for the one area which is marred by pasty tar and black sand which I haven’t been able to get rid of no matter how hard I try. The shoes, laying near this ugly pit of black, are sucked into this oblivion I’m now too scared to touch and the hand I was once absent-mindedly holding has left.
I’m late because I have the power to do so, it makes me feel like I have control- like I’m important to someone because living in a different state where I’m the odd one out again; it can be empowering but it can also be terribly redundant and awfully lonely.
Hope wherever you are you’re smiling because you deserve it.