Friday, August 16, 2013

I have to fight to believe truth.
I know the truth with my head.

In theory I know that I am loved and for the most part people like me. I can make a difference and life is worth living well. In theory I know that it's alright to make mistakes because I am human and that there is grace that surrounds me for such times.

But most of the time my heart doesn't buy it.

Sometimes I believe this truth with every fiber of my being, I can feel the life humming within me but without fail I will come tumbling down and landing in a heap right on top of the pile of my fears.

I feel as though I am forgotten and cast aside, I read rejection and disdain in the eyes of all the characters on the scene, and feel as though no matter how small the offence: if I deviate from perfection I will be hung out to dry. Despair makes me I feel as small as I am and as though my life will never even make the smallest of ripples in this ocean of time.

This is why I write, this is why I read, and bathe my soul in beautiful music. Words are the flaming sword that I use to battle these demons of insecurity and perfectionism that have plagued me for as long as I can remember. Because somehow when I name these nightmares and fears they weaken a little bit, their grip loosens for a moment and I am able to slip free and finally go skipping out into the sunshine with laughter slipping from my lips and for a moment I don't care what you people think about me at all because I am myself and I am Ming and if you don't like me it's okay because I am loved.

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