A let-out and maybe something more.

How many of us have gotten cramps in our legs while in a race? How many of us have been able to finish that race with the cramp and not give up? Even though we might be last, isn’t it the participation and finish that counts? We strive to be better than the others, sometimes forgetting to be true to ourselves. We loose ourselves in negativity, blaming our surroundings. Bold as it may seem, doesn’t negativity live inside you alone? And why do we always want to be the best? Does that really make us happy? Why aren’t we ever satisfied with what we have and more importantly, why aren’t most of us satisfied with who we are? No pride, no faith, no feeling of being special… why?! Aren’t we all special in our own way? Why do we want to be special in a way we think others will find us special? Isn’t us knowing enough?

How many times do we really stop and appreciate those tiny gifts that make it all worthwhile? A hug that lets you know they got your back, a kiss that lets you know they’ll love you till forever ends, a smile that wishes you a happy day, a soft ‘good morning’ that lets you know you’re not alone. And then I wonder how many times we’ve used the words ‘unfair’ or ‘bitch’ or other such words against life. I’ve been happy with life for the most part. Not saying that I’m one of those who realizes True Worth immediately but someone who has come to learn that yes, life may be a bitch at times, but she can be kind too… you just need to keep believing. She’s like a child, might disappoint you once, twice, thrice, maybe more… if you give up on her, she’ll break… shatter… strewn across the floor at your feet, helpless, stubborn and sulky. But if you do believe and say ‘It’s okay. You can have another chance at it. I know you can make it.’, well, it keeps her going and she tries harder just to gift it all back to you. Reminds me of Helen Keller and her teacher. Miracles happen, you just need to believe they do. She’s a child, your child, a gift from god, to make what you want with it. You can’t let her down. She needs you more than you think she does. You make her, not the other way around.

Special people that make you see life in a whole new way. As an adventure. Who would want an adventure to be perfect? Isn’t it in imperfection that we find appreciation? Isn’t it in imperfection that we find difference? If life wasn’t a child, she’d be a jigsaw puzzle, a group of people you surround yourself with. My pieces are not perfect but I’d hate them if they were ‘cause there never is a perfect square that fits in a puzzle without falling out. And my pieces make my puzzle a beautiful one, a happy one. They make me feel loved and cared for, needed. And reciprocating those feelings makes me happier. It’s not something I can help, which instead of making me feel helpless and dependent, makes me believe in the strength of the emotions even more. Who would want emotions weak enough to be ruled by the brain anyways?