I’ve always thought strength was found in those who could withstand every trial thrown at them, every insult and degrading name stabbed into their bodies, every push that could damage their emotions. I’ve always thought those were the people that you wanted to keep close to, the ones that were the ones that would protect you forever and ever.
The ones that could leave and feel as if nothing happened.
Life doesn’t work that way.
Lots of things don’t work that way.
And now that I’m older, apologizing for things that have happened to me in the past isn’t working. Apologies, when I was young and idiotic, were like aloe vera on a sun burn; welcomed and always taken with a response varying from, “That hits the spot.” to “Muuuuch better.” But as I grew up, I started to see the anger behind every word, every syllable, every meaning behind each phrase, and the deadly sharp knives that words carried with them, no matter what.
And I started to see, that maybe this world wasn’t worth the trouble.
It’s been that way for a long, long time for me; starting at the seventh grade and never letting go of my damn back. Think about it-- five long years of depression and hell within your mind, telling you to go and die in the corner because you’re worthless, or that you can’t go on being a burden to everyone else.
These thoughts go as such:
You’re worthless because you’ve failed your mother by struggling in Chinese.
You’re worthless because you cannot contribute to the art community.
You’re nothing because you’ve never stood out.
Your skills are pathetic, and no one will know you as the girl who did X or the girl who was great at Y because you never speak.
Any words that leave your mouth are voided, they have no meaning to them.
The actions you try to convey are lost by your illogical reasoning and flawed image of yourself.
You’re flawed and everyone knows it.
Now imagine that running through your head for five years, constant with only a few, short minute breaks.
It’s pretty damn strong to me. And though I struggled, maybe, just maybe, it paid off a bit.