Eyes wide closed

 

is it in our human nature to constantly seek other people’s approval? to look for our own worth in someone else’s words? to find our perfection through the eyes of another?

i’m asking myself these very questions as i think of those people.

those people who question your dry humour and quirky laughter and clumsy dance moves, who make you question your own happiness. cynical people with narrow-minded views of the world, who inflict a lingering pain with their words – a pain that clenches onto your heart and will not let go.

your mind’s always telling you that you shouldn’t listen to what they say, but you can’t help it. you really can’t. when you’re so young and innocent and unafraid of your own vulnerability, you can’t help but open your ears as widely as you open your heart. you let them steal the colours that define your skies, till everything’s grey and tasteless, a stone.

till you’ve hit the bottom of the sea, without a ripple, without a sound.

and when you look up, all you see is a blurry world staring back at you.

but then i’m remembering those other people. the ones who taught you how to swim back up. the ones who made you realise that,

even when everything’s smeared together in chaos and mess, everything still makes sense.

and they tell you:

just because nothing’s as clear as it used to be, doesn’t mean you have to start all over again, as a nobody carrying a blank slate.

because you’re a somebody.

you’re older now, maybe a little more closed-off, a little more fearful of showing too much pain and vulnerability. but that doesn’t mean you’re a worse person than you once were. your skies may no longer be filled with the same colours as before, but that’s not because those cynical people have drained them all away; it’s because you’re creating new colours and adding them to the mix.

this is you. this person with dry humour and a quirky laugh and clumsy dance moves. this person who sometimes needs to seek other people’s approval because you don’t think you deserve your own. this person who doubts, who dreams big, who’s sad at times but happy other times.

you’re searching for something you already have. and you’re always returning empty-handed, wondering where your worth is, where your happiness is, where your life is.

stop searching, because what’s the point of finding something you haven’t even lost? be this person that you are, and i tell you now:

that’s perfection enough.

A blank canvas

Inspired by Stephanie Perkins’ novel Isla and the Happily Ever After.

*** *** ***

You think that no one will ever truly love you, that you’re not worthy of anybody’s love. Everyone else seems to know exactly who they are and who they want to be; why are you the only one without a plan, without direction, without any clear vision of your future? Why are you the only one lingering in the present like a pile of fallen leaves that any gust of wind could just sweep away?

But what you don’t realise yet is that you’re not fallen leaves; you’re a seed in nourished soil. You’re not dead; you’re alive. There is sunlight above you and oxygen around you, and there is love in every breath you take, if only you’d accept that love… if only you’d realise that you’re not too much or too little of anything – you’re human and you’re complex and you’re perfect just the way you are. From you sprouts a million pathways and a million doors.

And maybe you’ve got nothing figured out yet, but you know what the best part of life is? It’s those tiny moments of spontaneity, when you have no idea which door you will open next but you still trust yourself to make the ultimate decision. It’s trying out something new and completely out of your comfort zone, despite your doubts and insecurities. It’s daring to pursue bold and impossible dreams.

You may be a blank canvas, but a blank canvas is the start of unlimited possibilities and the beginning of a most beautiful work of art – your life. Your future. You.