Purple sounds like the echo of a dark cave.

I don’t like to wonder and I don’t like to not know or not feel secure.  I don’t like it.  I don’t like not being sure if I’m being made fun of or if I’m being belittled or not because regardless if that’s what you meant, that’s how I feel.

And that makes me really fucking unhappy.

And I really only feel safe with one person right now because whenever I talk to him we always say exactly what we mean because if we didn’t it would all be pretty pointless (and sometimes it is pointless but that’s okay).

And that’s pretty much why I got close with this person and I miss talking to my older brother and I wish it was easier to contact him right now.

And I don’t like when people talk about me when I’m not there, especially if they talk about how I feel or if they tip part of my hand.  I keep my cards very close and I don’t like other people really knowing everything because then they could harmlessly make fun of something important to me and know it and claim it’s harmless but they’re belittling a part of me and that makes me pretty angry, honestly.

Because I don’t like when someone makes me into a plaything to be toyed with.

I want to say something.

I want to say something because I know something.  But sometimes the things we know we shouldn’t share because they are secrets and sometimes secrets aren’t ours we’re just holding onto them for someone else.  And those are the worst secrets because they are the secrets that hold you down and those are the secrets that make you want to scream the obvious to someone but you can’t.

Because you know something.

And just because they don’t know that something doesn’t mean it’s okay to share the secret.

So all you can do is wait and grimace and help things along a bit from the shadows and wait for them to realize the something that was always there.  But something isn’t always that easy to see because people miss things all the time and the people around them get used to knowing how to make things subtle, undetectable.

And those are the worst kinds of somethings to know.  To see and to watch as the painfully obvious is painfully ignored but since you know something and since you were trusted with a secret you can’t share a single damn thing.

And so I know something so painfully obvious but it was told to me in secret which makes it a secret which means I can’t share it because that would mean breaking the trust attached to that secret which is not okay.

And the secrets will suffocate me but it’s okay.

Because I know something.

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You are so controlled, so sure, so full of purpose.  Head filled with structured opinions that dictate future actions and make decisions simple.  You understand yourself and your feelings toward the world and the people in it.  You are fixed, steady, stony.  You know what you believe and you believe it almost unwaveringly.

I am not.

I am not sure just as I am without purpose just as I am not fixed.

I am energy, powerful and fluctuating and unsure.  Dangerous but whimsical.  I move as quickly or slowly as I please.  I move around obstacles and slip through cracks.  I take up a lot of space and in the next moment fit into something significantly smaller.  I change and change and change, but still the core of what I am stays the same.  I do not think of the future just as I do not have a purpose besides my own existence.  There is nowhere for me to fit, just different paths for me to go, like following wires down but not seeing where they end up.  Feelings change, feelings cannot be trusted but are used to make decisions anyways or there is no basis.  I am not steady.  I am not reliable.  I am not stony.  I move and change and grow and shrink and cause things to happen that I never could have imagined.  I waver and I second guess myself and double back and am unsure all the time.

But there is a power within me that I cannot ignore.  It fills me up and is me and is so strong.  I am so strong.  Sometimes I forget and sometimes I cannot feel it within me, but I know it is there.  And I can never be weak because to be weak would be to deny every fiber of my being, which is not me.  There are absolutes despite the fluidity of my existence, and this is one of them.  I have to be myself, or I have even less than I began with.

That raging torrential energy within requires more control than I possess, but it is worth it.  It is what scares people, that once I figure out where I want to go, there is little to hinder my desire.  I am direct, straightforward, but willing to be flexible to go where I wish to go.  Sometimes the fire within me burns me and those I most care for, but it is worth it for every day that it reminds me that I am stronger than I appear and that, even if I don’t have everything figured out, I am a great and powerful force.  And maybe one day I will be more than just an aimless bit of energy.

And maybe that day has already happened and I’m just waiting to reach it.

hm

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There was once a world where words were very powerful.  It was ruled by a loving goddess who used words to write the world into existence, adding a variety of beautiful landscapes, filled with a variety of creatures, beautiful and ugly alike, some magical and some not.  All of the magic was in words and creativity.  The goddess loved her creations so much that she encouraged them to grow, learn, and adapt as well as coexist.  However, some of the more powerful creatures became out of control.  They suppressed those they viewed as lower than them and would not listen to the wise and important words of the goddess.  Soon the less magical creatures questioned the infallibility of the goddess if she could not even protect them.  Creatures segregated and resorted to violence against other.  The goddess tried to stop them, but then the more magical creatures turned on her, attempting to create her downfall with the words she had given them.  In order to combat the evil fostered in her world, the goddess wrote herself into her story and vowed that she would appear when the time was right and there was a chance for peace in the world.  She wrote this knowledge into all of the creatures’ minds, making herself into a fable for all to know but few to believe until the time was right.  It was the only way to guarantee her safety while fixing the broken world.

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Sometimes when I talk, I feel like a giant.  Anything I say is amplified further than I can imagine.  I am strong, and everyone listens.  I rise above and people watch me and nothing is too big because in comparison to how I am, it doesn’t really make as much of an impact.

Everything is smaller, less amplified, when I am a giant.  When I yell and I feel this rush and everyone is quiet.  When I say something and the words are strong and sure and peoplelisten.  When I tell someone what I think and I can see them absorbing my words. During those moments, I feel like a giant.  I feel so important.

Sometimes when I talk, I feel like a mouse.  I can squeak and squeak for as long as I want, but nothing is going to happen.  I run away and I hide and I say nothing.  Nothing I say counts and nothing I say matters.  I don’t want to say anything anyways.  I just want to be a mouse and be alone.  No one listens to me but no one needs to.  I feel small, insignificant, and invisible.

Everything is bigger and more important than me, when I am a mouse.  I’m silent and I keep to myself and I do very little that concerns other people.  I move around quickly and efficiently, but I don’t disturb anything around me and I don’t bother anyone else.  I feel like a solitary being, scurrying through life alone.

Sometimes being a mouse feels good.  I like being alone sometimes and I recharge and feel better about myself.  Sometimes I’m a mouse and I wish I was a giant.  I wish I was strong and sturdy and present in a way I could never be as a mouse.  Sometimes I enjoy being a giant.  I enjoy the effect I can have on people and I feel influential, powerful.  Sometimes though, I just want to be a mouse, when I’m a giant.  I just want to scurry away and do my own thing and ignore the big world around me and be small.

Those harmonious moments when I am what I want to be are beautiful and comforting.  When I’m fighting with myself, though, that’s when I have issues.  That’s when I have problems being me.  Well, this doesn’t generally cause problems on its own, just grumpiness.  Coupled with other disagreeable feelings though, me feeling like something I don’t want to be really makes me hate myself a lot.

(( Wrote this satirical paper for my Literary Analysis / Creative Writing class. It’s uhh…well, I don’t think it’s that great but that’s because I don’t feel as comfortable writing satirical type stuff. I had to make like, strange, nonsensical suggestions and so yeah. I removed where it used to say the name of my school in case someone I don’t know finds this or someone finds this tumblr because of the name… ))

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Sometimes I talk and the people around me stare back with blank expressions.  Sometimes they compensate and try to reply, but I know they’re lost.  They don’t understand what I’m saying as if I’m speaking another language.

And I wonder how they could be lost, when I’d said the simplest thing ever, taken the smallest leap in logic or made a simple connection.

But then, I talk to one of my friends and the words don’t flow around them.  They absorb my logic and understand it, and then they manage to form an intelligent response that makes just as much sense as what I said.  And we have a true conversation and I feel closer to them and wonder how I could possibly be friends with those other people.

That who I feel closest to; people who actually listen instead of just hearing.

Those people are beautiful people and every day I appreciate them listening to me.

So, basically, my friends and I are all insane or the rest of the world is. I’m betting on our side being the logical side; but then I’m a bit biased, aren’t I?

(( Somehow…doing this helps me come to terms with the people around me =/ and the struggles of my friends… ))

There was once a falcon.  It soared through the sky and all who saw would stop what they were doing and focus on the falcon and watch in awe.  The falcon lived in a particularly small forest with few other falcons, so its presence was easily noticed.  It didn’t seem to even notice the attention given to it, the way everyone stopped and stared and complimented it.  The falcon focused on itself and its few closest friends.  It was nice to everyone, but really what mattered was those select few it stayed close with.

Its life wasn’t as easy as it was for it to soar around every once in a while though.  It had a depth perception problem.  The falcon could easily soar around where there was nothing but air, but once it dove back to the ground and the forest, it became confused and disoriented easily.  The bird couldn’t help it, it had issues of its own that it did its best to conceal, but those issues took time and concentration and patience.  It wasn’t easy as the bird slowly learned to live a different way, a life with different rules than the life it would have naturally have led.  It slowly adapted though, becoming just as swift and graceful as the next falcon.

The falcon didn’t forget its struggles though.  Those struggles made it who it was.  It had always been beautiful and graceful on the outside, but now what was inside matched what was outside.  Few noticed, because most had always seen what had been projected.

Those close to the falcon though, they noticed and they knew.  They could see the difference and how adapting had changed the falcon.  The falcon never stopped working to be better though, even once it had overcome its major challenges.  New challenges always appeared, but they were small, insignificant in comparison.  Nothing compared to the first challenge the falcon had faced.

And the falcon incorporated its difficulties in life and its overcoming of those difficulties into itself, never forgetting the challenges and rewards of life.  It was so much more confident now, ready to face anything.  Because it had overcome a variety of difficulties before, first its depth perception and then other small things, what could possibly come next it would not be prepared for?  The falcon was strong.

It is challenges and how the falcon had overcome them that made the falcon spectacular.