I’m Not Talking Planets or Galaxies
Sixteen was an interesting year.
I graduated from high school. Well, basically. There were days when I wished that I didn’t get up at all, that I had just wasted away, staring at the ceiling, as well as the days when my soul sang for morning. There were dreams, thoughts, actions. There was a boy that was obsessed with me for the longest time; I didn’t really like him at all. I almost lost myself completely; yet I found truth, love, beauty, true family. I read books upon books; more importantly, I wrote. I laughed; I cried. I sang; I listened. I screamed; I whispered. I mourned; I smiled. I was everything and nothing, everywhere and nowhere. There were times when I stood tall, and others when I tumbled down. I was proclaimed a savior, and still needed to be saved.
I became myself.
As in Siddhartha, there is something truly beautiful in the collection of people I have been. Om. Perfection. That’s the goal, anyways. God’s instrument, God’s heart, God’s vessel.
I think it’s safe to say that I truly lived, for the first time during the past year. Something about birthdays makes me feel as if we should celebrate them as we celebrate New Years. They’re beautiful. I remember my grandma’s last birthday, before she passed. This was maybe two years ago, but I remember how radiant she looked. How happy she was to be living, even if the love of her life had already passed. She took so much joy from just seeing my smile, my brother’s hair, my sisters’ eyes…
I want to be like her.
Alive, even if she was a tiny little old lady on a tiny planet in our tiny solar system. She captivated my heart.
I love you, Grammy.
Anyways, I’m heralding in the true New Year by softly weeping to the playlist that I’ve titled “ALIVE”.
It’s a beautiful thing, living.
