Animals don’t seem to have shame. They trip and they get back up. They don’t look around to see if anyone saw that. The sky doesn’t apologize for its storms. And children ask the most invasive questions.
When did we start caring so much about what other people think?
I’m sick of filtering.
I’m sick of overthinking.
I just want to be unapologetic, like storms. And children.
I’ll be the first to say that I have no idea what I’m doing. I act like I know what to say. I act like I have it all figured it out. I mean I think I have a plan. I repeat how I’m going to approach someone over and over again. But in the back of my mind, I doubt everything.
I have created a vision of who I want to be. And every day, the gap between that and who I am threatens me. There is a small whisper in the back of my mind of my fears of mediocrity and failure. Sometimes I tell that voice to shut the fuck up. But sometimes, I listen to it.
Why even write a poem if poets greater than me have written?
Maybe that’s why I’ve stopped writing as much lately. When I was a kid I wrote novels, I wrote millions of words. When I believed in my characters, in my imagination, in my dreams.
Was I too ambitious? Too naïve? Is there a glass ceiling I’ve pretended not to see?
Should I give up?
But every time I look at nature, I am inspired again. I watch the leaves on the trees turn brown, and I can already smell the cinnamon in the wind.
Humans too, we’re a part of nature. I see a car and I think how did someone get an idea, get the tools, put those tools together and create such a thing. Not to mention, I’m still completely mind fucked about how cellphones work. I see buildings and I can only think of the extremely detailed blueprints on a sketchpad of an engineer before the construction. They too were inspired.
So I look to nature when I need inspiration. The moon shows us that there is a cycle to things. Seasons change. Nothing is permanent. Not even our social media profiles. I’m not taking myself seriously anymore. I’m allowing myself to express how I feel and what I think.
The promise of growth only comes from the bravery to be. To be you. To be authentic.
When I look back at myself in ten years, I’ll understand the girl I used to be. And thank her for her authenticity. Every moment inspires the next, and I couldn’t be the girl I am now had I not been the same depressed girl last year.
When I see the nervous face of a young immigrant girl holding onto her mother’s hand, I think of my younger self before the healing and the self-love. And so I do this for her.
I write because maybe my experience can make a difference in just one person’s life. Maybe there is inspiration in my story. Maybe I can offer something new to the world that Shakespeare, Maya Angelou or Eminem can never offer.
The accumulation of experiences that make you who you are changes by the moment, as you accumulate more and more experiences. Every second, you become a different person. Guilt and shame are feelings of the past that don’t allow you to embrace the new you. Celebrate your transformation at each moment. Keep shedding.
The way a baby seal gets up after it rolls over. The way a child laughs after he’s learned how to ride a bike. The way the sky beams of colors after a rough storm.