There is no right way to be human. The entire point is to love eachother. To love yourself. To accept that amongst our differences we are all in need of and in search of, love.
February 2014 She lived in a place where night lasted forever and the sunrise never came. But sometime, if she squinted long enough, she could transcend into a glimpse, or perhaps a shimmer, of the hope the stars brought. She yearned for the comfort and sacred intimacy the night brought, for it opened her mind to a galaxy where dreams, wishes, and love were an ever-attainable reality. She wished often that her name would be remembered. But now, surrendered to the anonymity of the night, she tried to forget it.
I love film. I love movies, I love watching tv, and i can scroll through Tik Tok for hours. I didn’t really watch TV until I was 8sh. Whatever age third or fourth grade is. We didn’t realize it at the time, but by the time my younger sister and I were old enough to be left alone we would watch tv after school. We figured nobody knew since our older sisters were usually practicing the piano below and my mom, who had started to undergo monthly transfusions would be taking a nap on the family room couch. She was always sleeping on the couch, at time without any sort of blanket or covering (aka the power naps while dinner is cooking). My mom. That’s a story for another day. Back to tv. My sister is 5 years younger than me, and since she was one of the only friends I had, I ended up watching animated kids tv; not the cool kind, the PBS channel. Arthur started at 3-4pm. We had early release school on Tuesdays and/or Thursdays, so if we got there in time there was Sagwa at 23...
I had spent my life changing myself for a guy, so it makes sense that it was not good enough for me when he said “I love you as you are”. To him, I was enough.. yet I didn’t believe I was. I just saw everything that was wrong with him because it didn’t fit my conditioned image of what an ideal partner should be, and I saw everything wrong with me. I thought he would like someone else better and I was mad at myself for not being that ideal image for him. But what I imagined his “ideal match” to be, was not what he imagined it to be. I lacked a sense of self, where he knew who he was. I silently resented him because he had achieved what I had not- a true identity and connection to one’s higher self. I admired his discipline to keep his life harmonious, and his ability to attract light. I darkened his light. I could not let him be who he was. The cycle had ended. I had learnt the lesson. The lesson that life has tried so earnestly to teach me, over and over again. When I was finally...
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