Worth it?

Californians too. Although I’ve never been able to get up on the roof of my house.

inspiredbylit:

It’s been a full month since I last wore shoes.
I wear flip-flops because it’s easy to kick them off and run in the grass
It’s one of my favorite things: feeling soft grass underneath my feet.
I keep Tennessee’s reputation of people never having shoes alive.
You would too if you just tried it.
…

The Drawer

The Drawer

There came the day when I had to pack up the bubbles sets, dolls and fake makeup and put them in the corner of the room. I didn’t have a younger sibling so I couldn’t give it to them. Long years of dust and spider webs await the box, with the contents that marked a stage in my life, one that’s on a hallmark card and placed on my mirror with the rest of my memorabilia. In the spaces on my dresser, now bare and breathing relief sighs is where I put real make up, tampons and body rings. I didn’t have need for the other things that took residence on my dresser, but more than anything, I wish I did. I long for the days where I would take my dolls and go over to a friend’s house and play long hours of Barbie and ken getting married. Ken was the only guy she looked at , and they fell in love instantly and got married right away. We would collapse on the floor in giggles and plan out our fairytale wedding. We would meet him in high school, fall in love, marry him and have kids. No one told us of the torturous heartaches, sleepless nights and countless tears that would have to endure for this person; we never saw it watching Polly Pockets or Barbie World. We didn’t know that once you love a person, they don’t have to love you back nor you might have to search the world and back to find the right one, just to lose him to cruel fate.

I remember going under the big oak tree in the backyard with a big colouring book and24 pack crayons. I would colour for hours as the tree whistled in the wind and stir up the leaves. I was comfortable that way. Now crayons are used to bring me down and make me feel as if I can’t get it , even if I try. This is so because colouring is now graded and used as a way of determining my future, what happened to the fun afternoon activity I used to enjoy, I can’t even do it anymore , without being judged.

No matter where I headed I had a few pieces of plastic makeup in my pink and purple bag which I sported comfortably on my shoulder. In there was also my fake cell phone and pair of purple shaded sun glasses. Now, in my real handbag, I don’t have a few pieces of makeup, I have a billion different pieces of real Cover girl makeup. I’m terrified of leaving home without it, I don’t want the world to see my face , my real face , because society hasn’t fully accepted people who are a little bit different. They don’t look up to dark skinned , average size girls , because to them , that isn’t beauty , beauty is going to the bathroom every meal and pushing a toothbrush down your throat or eating an almond a day to watch your weight. I remember when everyone was beautiful , whether you were tall , short , black , white , tanned , fat , skinny , whatever , because children don’t judge. I feel self conscious to go out in the world with my face bare, what you people think? Its not so much as what they would think , its that I don’t want them to judge me , or label me , without them knowing me first , so maybe if I looked like one of them , they would accept me , later they will find out im not.

I wiped another tear from my eye after putting down the box of photos I had from when I was three. I had left them on the mirror, so I can remember good times and who I was , but I wake up every morning , looking at a stranger’s face both in the mirror and the photos. I would cry every morning just looking at the innocent little girl, not a worry in her eyes , just pure contentious bliss. Where is she? She lived in a world where many things didn’t matter but grew up in a place with bitter people with cruel intentions. I remember fighting with my best friend, over whose hair was longer , not who gets the guy or whose heart is broken the most. Fights don’t last a couple minutes and end in copious amounts of hugs but they last days , weeks , months sometimes forever and someone always gets hurt , no matter if you made up of not , the scar is still there. I remember the pact I formed with my girls “Best Friends Forever Till Death Do Us Part,” I forgot to mention, migration, jealousy, boys and hurt feelings. I never could predicted any of this, who knew there could be so many ways to tear people apart. I walk past these same people in the cold dull school hall, without a second glance , a wave or a muttered word , the worst part is , I don’t feel it. I don’t feel like a part of me is missing, maybe because I’m not that girl anymore.

I shoved all my friendship bracelets that haunt me from my childhood in a separate box, throwing them away , is like throwing away a piece of my past that I couldn’t afford to lose. I recalled crying because I scraped my elbow when I fell off my bike, there comes mommy with her warm welcoming hands and a Band-Aid. In no time the tears would have dried and I would have been smiling again. But now, I could sob for days and days without a real smile creeping on my face. I can’t find Band-Aids for my heart, they don’t sell them anywhere , I checked , the only thing that heals it , is the same thing that broke it. Words now cut deeper and things disappear without a trace leaving you stranded in this confusing world wondering how you got there, the scariest thing is , there is no way out.

I pack the last box in the corner wishing it would swallow me in and bring me back to the days of its contents because sometime between then and now, something went wrong.

-TMH

Submitted by minnibee