This year has been an odd one, I truly do hate how I feel the need to look back each year. Maybe I’m far more odd than I thought. I like to reflect quite often, I never really have understood why. This year has given way to wonderful and tragic things, but I cannot argue that the tragedies have made me stronger. As a writer I have decided to hold fast to my dream, I will be published again, this time it won’t be in poetry. I will work for my dream, I will have a book published, one that can show my readers exactly as I see my world. The world I wish existed.
Over the last year I have experienced new things. New experiences in which I had to learn how to react and be a part of. Experiences that brought out other parts of me, parts that I didn’t know existed. As a person I feel as if I have many parts, not quite the onion metaphor from Shrek, but close. I feel that on the outside I am the sweet shy girl that seems like she has her life figured out. Inwardly, I’m scared for what life has to bring, but I’m far too determined to give up. Though I hurt myself, let others hurt me, there’s one thing that will continue to happen. I will keep moving, I can’t afford to sit still.
My muse, my love, you have taught me so much. You taught me that wearing a mask to please people will only make me more miserable. You taught me that no one can accept me if I don’t show them me. You also showed me how scared I am, how weak I allow myself to be. How weak I let others perceive me, even though I have a will of steel. We spoke so often until the next day, so many nights of close to no sleep, if not any. You spent so much time with me, letting me go through all my demons, all the scars, all the things that made me that broken. Even now you take time to make sure nothing has happened, you ask me how I am every day and genuinely care about why things bother me. I may not be perfect and have more flaws than I ever imagines, but you accept me for all of it.
As a writer I thrive on creativity, I thrive on criticism. Most are afraid to tell me what they think, people don’t understand what I expect from myself as a writer. You do, because of that you have managed to be a helpful critic. The thought “you are your worse critic” is correct. For me, I tell myself that everything could be better, there isn’t a single thing it focuses on, it’s literally all of my writing that is bad to me. To you, its specifics, however you can also see what I was going for. You were the first to tell me that my beloved character Rena wasn’t amazing and in some points she didn’t make sense. You shattered the bubble I had for so long. No one would tell me her faults, they all told me she was perfect. You broke the bubble of lies and shattered my reality, much like you did when you forced me to realize I wasn’t me.
Instead of being afraid to hurt me, you warned me, then punched through all the lies and the fake person I was. I was so raw when I first became myself again. I was scared, everything hurt. The idea of me being imperfect about killed my dream. I didn’t know how to accept my imperfections, I began to fall apart at a rapid rate. I even tried pulling away from you out of fear, but you didn’t let me. At that point everything had gone too far, I was tied to you in a way I didn’t understand, you had already made an emergency line to me. At that point I was so broken I had nothing, I was nothing, I was the embodiment of imperfection, and yet you caressed me as if I was perfect. It infuriated me to see you giving me so much attention when I was so imperfect, I didn’t understand. Every guy had a dream girl and in my state I was unfit to be such a thing. What occurred over the next two months is what made me. Instead of telling me I was perfect, you pointed out that perfection was impossible, and there was beauty in imperfection. Though I am aware of the quote, I was never told this specifically. It was mind shattering. I was already broken, I was as sensitive as myself, there was no mask to soften the blow, it hurt, and it stung down to my core. I couldn’t be perfect.
This point caused me to look back at life. At my parents who refused to accept me for me and tried to make me into what they wanted. They were never happy with me, they wanted perfect, but to them, perfection changed into their wants and needs. By the time I could become what they wanted, they had a new perfect. I grew up with trying to be perfect, reaching for it, and trying so hard and failing over and over again. When that didn’t work, I reached out for someone else. The men I chose in my life, was a mistake, they weren’t helpful in my development, and they were all just like my father. They wanted something specific, they all had a dream girl.
The first wanted a submissive girl that he could drop at any time and pick back up. He didn’t want me to have opinions. He wanted me for a couple weeks, before realizing that his dream girl was my best friend at the time. It was so hectic being perfect one week then trash the next. I became desperate to feel as if I wasn’t trash, I begged for him to tell me what to fix. He gave me his description of his dream girl, and because of that want I almost had the biggest mistake of my life. Thank goodness for some form of common sense.
The second one gave me hope. He acted like a prince, he wore what I did, and he liked what I did. I was sure I had made a good choice. I tried to be myself, but was shot down immediately and compared to another friend and was told to be here. He was furious she wouldn’t date him and I was his second choice that now needed a new mask. I tried to become her, but I still wasn’t her, it made you angry. Your anger shot out in abuse and I was desperate to be accepted, even if I wasn’t me. I took far more than I should have, and right as I almost made a giant mistake, my common sense kicked in.
By this time, you would think I would have learned or grew a backbone. Quite the opposite, I broke hard. I believe I wasn’t good enough to be a person, so I accepted whomever wanted me. Thankfully the person that found me was passive, and I’m aware there’s a chance he probably will read this. He was nice to me for the most part but even he tried to change me. I was so complacent at the idea of leaving my parents and having someone give a damn about me, I didn’t have standards. If you are reading this, I apologize, but you are not my type of guy, I’m sure you figured that out. After a couple years with him, he asked me to marry him, I had decided at that point that my life’s decisions were no longer my own and gave in. I decided this was the best I could do, some never even get this far, why would I drop this? Eventually I noticed that even he made me change, I wasn’t me. I wasn’t being me, I was dropping everything that made me, me. The moment this realization hit me, I panicked, I distanced myself the only way I knew how. I blew up, I made a big enough deal making sure I could leave. Then I went back to my parents.
The following years were an odd mix of bad, worse and neutral. I made friends, but they used me. I began to get into gaming, I found myself able to lose myself in games. It gave me an outlet and I loved it. Unfortunately, I attracted too much attention without meaning to, and attracted people who tried to hurt me. While trying to be me, I found a person that manipulated me to make himself feel better. That person stayed in my life far too long. That person tied me to people who poked at my scars, tore open old wounds and made new ones. I became desperate again, I didn’t want to be alone. In that desperation I clung, to who I had been around the longest. This became a horrible thorn in my side. The people from the game was just as bad. I met people who stalked, creeped, emotional abused, and hacked my game account .I had been introduced to the harsh world far quicker than I wanted to be. This stark difference of how cruel the world was, and my thoughts of everything prior being bad luck scared me.
At this time, at this horrid time, is when I met my muse. It’s silly to me how the placement worked out. I was so done, so scared, so broken, and just in time for that, I met you. The most reasonable, understanding of them all. Thinking of how much has occurred makes me smile a little. I’ve always been one to fall to the bottom and keep trying to climb up.
I’ve always seen my life as a pit. On the bottom there are spikes, corpses, and basically death. Above that are ledges. Each ledges has a tunnel out, and on each ledge stands a person in my life. The top would be my parents, they were the first to start this. Each ledge since them would be each person that’s caused me to fall closer to the spikes. Now I’m on the last ledge, but oddly enough, I’m not falling. There is a chain along my waist that’s connected to the man keeping me up, it’s as if he intends to take himself with me if I were to fall. He’s holding me close, I’m in his arms, not falling, and it’s such a strange feeling. Unlike every person before him, his ledge doesn’t have a tunnel, no. For him to save me, he’ll have to get to another ledge. I expected him to drop me to save himself as many before have. Instead he put me on his back and has been climbing up the side of this pit. His strength is beyond any person I have ever seen. His will is iron. His want to save me, beyond any that I have ever seen.
Because of you, I get a second chance in life, I can swear on everything that I am, I won’t let you regret it. I’ll keep writing, I will write the story I’ve told you so much about. I’ll let you see what you save, I’ll show you my imperfections and just how perfect I am with them. Because of you, I will do this.
Watch as the girl you helped save becomes a princess.