I would like to think of myself as rather intelligent. I've always had a sense of how people worked, and grasped challenging concepts pretty well. I remember over the years my mother would try to argue with me, and everything she said was either hypocritical or angry. She would get mad because I called her out, and she'd retort, "You know what, just become a psychiatrist already." I've thought about it, but I don't have a large threshold for ignorance.
Although it seems like I'm angry and opiniated 97% of the time, I have quite a bit of tolerance. I like to pride myself on my empathy. I worry about what others think of me, and I want them to enjoy my company. I try to be the person people come to, or can trust, because I don't have that all the time. And when I do, it's a huge relief. I was taught growing up the the most important thing is to be kind, and that you can't judge someone for their actions because there is always an underlying reason. I try to think about someone's home situation, or how much pain they've gone through, but I'm also forgetful and usually lash out. Others tell me I'm tall. I get that one a LOT. Random people will take the time out of their day to be annoying and inconsiderate and question me about my genetic code. No, you're right. I want to go throughout the day feeling self conscious about my giraffe height. Much love. I'm not sure what defines me yet. There are so many definitions for all the words in the English dictionary, and because we are all different and human, we are flawed and wrong and nothing is ever really correct. How should I know what defines me? I feel like I will spend most of my life trying to figure it out, just like everyone else. But I don't know if I want to be defined. I don't ever want to be put in a cage and told "You are this. This is all you can be and these are your limits". I have too much doubt in myself and too little time to do things for others to play that role. I want to be defined for what I've done, and what I write, and how I turn out. And I hope to turn out decent.
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Last year, I was advised by my favorite English teacher, Ben Jatos, to read one of his most beloved collection of essays, "Legs Get Led Astray" by Chloe Caldwell. I had never even heard of her, let alone expected to be so moved by every captivating word she published from here on out. He handed me the mint-condition, sleek, paperback-covered book and my emotions were never the same. In these essays were the most beautiful and inspiring stories I had ever had access to and I couldn't believe someone with so much talent, someone I truly hoped to end up like in the world of literature, was not that well known. I finished it in a week.
Whenever I write, I think about her. I think about how open her essay was written on her dear friend who overdosed, and how the last thing they did was paint a mural and drank cheap wine in her apartment until all hours of the night (please don't quote me, it was a year ago). I think about the super faint memory of the last essay in the entire book, and how I can't even remember the name of it, but I know that it made me crave and ache for more pages and words. I thought about Chloe today when I was asked to fill out my theater-bio-questionnaire, and how it asked "Favorite motto". The first thing that came to mind was this: "I can accept that all I’ve ever wanted is not very special —all I’ve ever wanted, like most people, is proof of love.” And trust me people, this is only a hint of how great it gets. I thought about this when I got home as well, because I didn't realize how at the time it was so relatable. I mean, of course it's "relatable". Everyone is looking for proof of love, whether it be in a significant other, friend, or a stripper. But I didn't realize how much love I had been longing for until I was tossing and turning over her words. It's a horrible feeling, desiring love. Not just love, but acceptance. It's even worse when you had it. You grasped it, experienced it, and never thought it would leave you... until it does. It makes you feel like this is all the world has for you. Connections with others, people you let down and either love too much or don't love enough. I'm fearful, because I don't want to live a life where I'll never be able to decide for myself, on what I want, how I feel, or what I love. This is why I write. I feel like if others know what I have to say, I'll miraculously end up surrounded by people just as lost and anxious of the universe around me as I am. Something I always assumed I would have was love, and I'm scared that it's not something you can possess. What if it's something that floats throughout us day to day, and we give, and give, and give, never noticing what we don't take. I think of all the people around me, and it depresses me even more to know that I don't find happiness or acceptance in any of them. And I'm the only one to blame. Chloe Caldwell's "Legs Get Led Astray" gave me so much wonderment for what she had to say. It gives me hope that I can fill someone's heart with that much satisfaction with just my words, if and when I become a writer someday. She's what you call, #goals. I seriously love you Chloe. Thank you for wanting proof of love. The one thing we spend our lives searching for. |
AuthorGrace Willcox. High school student. Likes to think of herself as cunning & witty. Probably isn't. Enjoy. Archives
March 2017
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