My writing

Who is she.

I have gone a lot of my life unnoticed. Every since I started school really, I am what people like to label as a ‘worrier’. When I was younger, I grew up with this drilled in my brain. That all I really was, was worry. Because I was worry I would find it hard to speak up. I would learn to watch more closely. And that would make me. I would learn that maybe I was not just worry, however that would always be a part of me, that could hold me back. Something to work on, but something that made me strong.

I have always tried hard. Probably too hard. Working too long and getting too stressed. Having ideas of perfection pressed down on me when somebody significant in my life made a dramatic lifestyle change. This change tilted my world of its axis. Taught me how to hate me. Taught me how to be me. Made me loose me. Made me find a brand new me. Made me scream at me, and what they made us all become. And made we wish every single day to run, so I could become someone.

I have always tried hard, fearing wrong. But then growing up up, and questioning right. Then questioning wrong. Looking for too long, longer than the ones who spoke. And questioning life. I have always hurt, a gradual progress of, I don’t know what this is, to I need to know what this is, to I need to get fixed. Because after all, I need to look after me but I really don’t know, who is she?

But I know me. I know me now, how I used to be. Friends that I would see. The people I love. My ambitions. My hopes. Every single dream. I know that I had wanted to stay put. I had wanted to be safe. Now I want to run. I want to make change. I want to create something. And although I really don’t know where I am going or what I am doing or who I am. I at least know who I have been, and who I can be.

In life we only see what people let us see. While you may see she, I see me. People see from their perspective. But they will never know me, not truly, unless I let them see me.We like to hide. We like to cover ourselves up with artificiality. And I have come to despise, the way people lie, and how life is painted to be so pretty. Because that pretty is not the real beauty in life. I have come to hate, the way we now look and do not think. We look but we don’t really see anymore. We look but we do not think and nothing in the world annoys me more because we all have beautiful eyes but we are not using them. And I want to scream at the world to just see. Not just she, or me. But every voice who speaks with eyes and sound and silence. Every voice who is afraid to speak.

We like to hide, but I think I grew out of hiding.


Love, Misstery


 

 

 

 

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15 thoughts on “Who is she.

  1. ahh I love this! it’s really well written and the part saying “we look but we don’t really see anymore” reminds me of the movie ‘My Dinner with Andre’ – it tackles all the deep philosophical meanings of life and how sometimes it’s like we’re performers and we’re a ‘sleeping audience’ that can no longer be woken up.

    Liked by 1 person

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