Crazy is hiding behind fluent sarcasm. It’s the distorted reality you lose yourself in, the dilated pupils you look through, the humor you use to dismiss the things that matter most. Crazy is your confidence that you can spend your life fighting the way things are meant to be, the way they’re meant to happen. It’s looking at life with eyes that say run. It’s beauty in ways you can’t understand. You’re running in circles wondering why the view is the same. You’re living your life with simple hopes to get by. You’re cursed with a brilliant mind you live to resent.
Our teen years fixate on the popularity of the girl with pretty long hair and a drinking problem. The jock like boyfriends that will bend over backwards to hold their books and the instant glamour that can be found when accessorizing with pink. It’s the kind of life we hate to want.
We try to make a normal so far from what we know, but it’s a matter of time before we realize people don’t change, they simply can’t. We can fight who we are for as long as we have the strength but eventually it’s inevitable and we give up the act. The twenties come with a lot of hardships, a lot of obstacles we must overcome but while we’re occupied with the more serious problems in life, we forget to pretend to be someone else. There is no better time to embrace who you really are then a time where no one has a clue.
There’s a million things to go wrong whether it’s the sickness you get or the bones you break. The hearts you loose or the jobs you can’t do. Some days the gym will be too many steps and the weekend will be too many sleeps. Your dreams will be impossible and the future will seem so dark.
But like we don’t know why love stops, we know why it starts and like we don’t know why we die, we know why we live. We can’t look ahead without looking around. We can’t possibly appreciate the ground until we’re too close to the ledge. We can’t seem to decide if it’s worth stepping on the edge or stepping off.
You have personality traits you struggle to find in other people. Your witty comments surface as arrogance, leaving others to make false judgment. You have a constant sense of awareness, always keeping tabs on your surroundings and the crowd within it. You can find the escape route, the worst-case scenario or the most convincible reason to leave any situation.
You live in your mind so you’re aware of every word, every breath, every thought that plays pong on the walls of your brain. You fixate over the few things that interest you and are forced to battle the daily struggle of self-betterment. You have a sense of frustration for people whose qualities clash with yours. You lack patience. You lack restraint. You feel different because you are, and how exhausting it is to keep being misunderstood.
You’re scared of the people who are going to let you down, kill your dreams and cause you pain. You’re scared of real emotions. The weight of heartache and the misery we must tolerate when we can no longer find sense. You cheat yourself from life because you’re convinced reality is worth hiding from. Reality is no more then a fire we can’t put out.
This proves you know so little. You’re a coward hoping to numb rejection. Hoping to feel no more then the sting of a paper cut. There are amazingly painful emotions we must learn to survive. You need to get out of your own way, out of your own mind and see you’re not alone. You’re surrounded by people who bleed red, whose hands shake, whose voices are laced with fear. Embrace the mess you are and the madness in your head. Be so excited you’re scared and so scared you’re excited. Be so afraid your vision blurs and all you see is pain worth feeling.
You can’t believe the world can look at you any different then the way your mirror does. Your self-image sits as a devil on your shoulder, whispering critique and hate.
You lay your clothes out the night before, shopping at the same stores they do. You buy extra promising foundation, hoping the haunting remains of your teens will soak into your skin. Your hair won’t grow the way you want it to, your body won’t shape your clothes the way you wish it would. You do everything to hide your imperfections. To erase the things you hate. To battle the impurities you hide behind day after day.
Don’t burden a beautiful mind with ugly thoughts. You’re more then a number on the scale. More then a number of likes on a picture. Be proud to be a paint-by-number and they’ll still look at you like art.
You’ve built your life on an illusion. You’re the lead of a play, written and directed by you. You’re afraid to leave a roll that gives you purpose, a definition of who you are. You know in the world of nine to five, the cluster of people on the street corner, the stocked shelves of a bookstore, you are jut another somebody and your brain is one of millions. So, one day you’ll wake up without the pain and sorrow and you’ll look for it, because you’ll miss it. You remind yourself to be miserable because you no longer know who you are without it. You sit in the hole you’ve dug for yourself with no memory of the days beneath a blue sky. You’re making a life out of what most consider rock bottom.
A persons character is defined by how they act when they fail and how they react once they’ve fallen. As long as you don’t build the same castle every time you collapse, you won’t have to wave a white flag and surrender time and time again. Life is made for second chances. It’s based on trial and error. It’s forgiving as long as long as you come out better.
Remember you can swim when the boat sinks. A balloon filled with air can still touch the ground. If you stumble when you’re dizzy, it doesn’t dictate your direction. All your flaws can’t be so flawed. All your sadness can’t mean the end.
They don’t understand. They don’t understand why you’ve collapsed on the side of the road, sobbing hysterically into your hands. They don’t understand why their messages sit in your inbox, unacknowledged for days. They don’t understand why your mind wanders to dark places, despite their constant pleas to cheer up.
Don’t get it wrong, they care – but they don’t understand.
They don’t understand how you’ve lost respect for life, how you can’t find anything to live for. You hold onto the familiar, aching to relive the simpler days. They don’t understand how you’ve stopped dreaming. You’ve stopped embracing the warmth of fresh laundry. You’ve stopped savoring the last sip of your morning tea. You’ve stopped smiling at the innocent, young faces you see on the street. You’ve stopped living.
We’ve all faced with situations that make us say, let me get through this and I promise I’ll change. I promise I won’t drink so much. I promise I won’t speed next time. I promise not to smoke again. I’ll eat cleaner. I’ll try harder. I’ll be better. But, after the moment’s past, we prove the saying to be true, people don’t change. We bargain under pressure. We lie to even ourselves. The person you are is the person that keeps you up at night. The temptations that haunt you when there’s no one around to convince you there’s a better, you can’t seem to otherwise see.