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Awakened Imagination

Posted by elaundra

I looked down. Thinking about what had just happened. I was constantly asking myself “Am I the only one?” Are there other circumstances where I felt like I was a woman with no face and didn’t matter

I knew that there would have been more. And for me it was a first time, and with the first time for everything being the reason sometimes that people do things; I had a sure way of knowing that this was my first time. And the “hmmm” was letting me know it was not his first time. So it was an imaginative state of fun that we both took accountability for. The enjoyment of it just faded in that instance because it was no longer exciting to me to be seen in such a mediocre way. As if the happiness in experiencing the situation itself wasn’t enough to carry me through at the time. I needed more. But what more happiness could I have? So I thought about how much I enjoyed myself. And then there was something inside of me that was thinking maybe this isn’t as fun as you think it is. Maybe it’s more than what you think.

I would find myself drifting off into an adjoining alternate universe that allowed me to make sense of everything that was bothering me. I am on this never-ending search for peace it seems. Trying over and over to create that harmony in my mind. That harmony in my soul. That fever in my spirit. That gold sparkling inside me.

I guess my feeling bad for even telling him everything I have been through in life was enough in it’s own right. There was more than enough information on my heart for me to feel like I was running from being vulnerable to him. Leaving that room with him staring at me asking me to tell him more. I felt ashamed of everything I had been through. I wondered why I just couldn’t find it. Wondering in my mind, does any of this make him respect or care about me any differently? Any deeper? Often-times asking myself what would the alternative be? I wondered, what about the insecurity within yourself telling you that you aren’t good enough? Making fun of your every last mistake? Every last move? Every tiny success.

It must be nice to parent with no interference from outside influences. It must be nice to have so much control, nod your head like you care; knowing good and well you don’t. It is nice to be respected. It’s a wonderful think to come home after work and have someone be happy that you even exist. They are happy that you’re alive, there. I would be looking at myself in the mirror, and then immediately look away. I wanted to be glowing from the inside out, because that’s what life is all about. Finding the many ways that you can glow. Glowing in how you treat yourself. Glowing in how you talk to yourself. But when I turned the knob to leave the room, I realized it’s not ever healthy for me. And how much did you really know about me? What type of game were you playing?

On a hidden camera called his memory, I begged and pleaded for it to be over. I would sit and pray that I had the strength to just get up and leave. No longer in fear of the writing on the wall; I was inferior to the manuscript itself.

Sometimes I would get into these deep, dark battles with myself and be so down about how I was feeling at the time. It is a broke habit to get into. You never get rich off of caring about others’ opinions. Whether you won the Pulitzer prize or not; there are some people in life that just hate you for being you. But they never did the work on hating themselves for who they were; and not being of positive use for the rest of us. So what do they do? Continue to construct more hatred. Which will always leaves us with nothing. We had to begin working on their self esteem right alongside them for our benefit it seems sometimes. And when you started this work, do you remember brainstorming how you were going to go about making it happen? How you were going to help that person figure it out? I guessed that by the time I had wire-framed it in my head; I would be able to execute. I was always better giving advice to someone sometimes versus taking my own advice. I think it was sometimes more trial and error and discovering all of the things in life that were important to me at that time.

I walked out the room, and went to the bathroom. I sat down on the toilet and started to cry. I just buried my head in my hands. Telling myself who and what I hated at the time. And why. Albeit a private conversation with the parts of myself that needed to heal; it was necessary to be real with myself. It was a horrible circumstance for me to experience laying in a pool of self pity. I felt pity on myself because of the expectation held on me before, during and after. The people involved. The greed. The abuse. The anger. The pain. The truth never really mattering to anyone other than those designed to create a life as honest as possible. And even in that honesty, is it honestly your place to think the way you do? The best thing for so many situations in life is to allow them to play out and continue to create paths of growth. And sometimes when you’re looking into your life a little deeper, you realize that there might be a bigger reason that someone even entered it in the first place. But then there might be a reason just as big why someone else exited.

It was never the exit out of my life that I clung onto. It was the entering in the first place. I would remember the faces and the energy and the time and HOW it happened. But the exit portion of it was more after the excitement. And the excitement of life is what I was in it for.

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