Wednesday, June 1, 2011

I Forget To Seek Forgiveness

I'm sensitive. Seriously, I am. I put on the face that nothing bothers me when deep down, my heart's sinking. I make my words and their intentions harsher than I mean them when I feel that way to make up for the fact that I get hurt by words more often than by actions.

I'm self-absorbed. I'm manipulative. I'm slow to move. But damn it, I am a great person. I'm compassionate. I'm open. I'm creative. I know just the right thing to say at all the right times. But I get angry like the next person. I make mistakes and misspeak more often than I like to admit. I justify my actions when it suits my purpose.

I crave purpose; I want what I do for a living to mean something and to matter to someone. Yes, accountants matter to people, as do therapists and lawyers, but I question if I'd be happy doing those things. I wonder if, in the scheme of things, will my hands touch something great, will my influence push someone over their own edge of greatness. I don't know what makes me think I'm so special that I deserve to be paid to do something I love to do that means something; call me crazy, but I think that's the dream and I've always been a dreamer.

I write because that's all I know to do. When things get hard, when things get fun. When things hurt and when they heal. I'm a writer. I like to think that I write because somewhere out there there's someone like me thinking the same way I am, or going through something similar and I know it eases so much stress to know that what I feel isn't just a "me" thing, that someone else knows exactly what I feel like.

I heard somewhere to never ask permission but always ask forgiveness. So forgive me if it seems like I marginalize. Forgive me if I misspeak. Forgive my selfishness. I'm sorry if by being who I am I offend. They're mostly learned behaviors that I'm slowly unlearning; life has no accelerant, so I don't know what my naysayers really expect me to do. I can't go out and wiggle my nose to make jobs appear. I can't blink and cross my arms to give myself a degree. I can only do what I'm doing now, and that's trying to move forward and learn about the life I want to lead.

What I am going to do is get this degree. I am going to get a job. And I am going to stand on my own two feet. It's going to take time, so if there's none to be given I'll just have to snatch some where I can find it. It's going to hurt, and it's going to change me, but for the first time in my life I'm saying bring on the hurt. I'm ready.

Strictly cathartic
But still with love <3

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