I'm Still Here

WARNING.

This will be one of those deep and meaningful posts.

So the other day, a friend who shall remain nameless was staying over at my house. We were just hanging, eating chocolate and watching movies (as you do at sleepovers) and she just suddenly stopped talking and stopped doing anything. I asked her what was wrong.

She told me, "I'm sick of being like this" and gestured to her whole body. She said, "I'm sick of not being what everybody wants. I'm sick of being me. I'm not thin enough, I'm not nice enough, I'm not pretty enough."

What sort of a world do we come from, that we beat ourselves up because we don't look like the toothpicks (commonly called 'models') magazines use to model their clothes? How is it that 2 percent of the world's population has an "acceptable" body to use as a model, and yet the majority of us, who don't starve ourselves (for the most part) strive to fit the minority of people?

When did ribs, hips and collar bones start becoming sexy? Since when has it been an achievement to not eat for however many days or cut however many calories from your diet and know it's stupid but feel proud of it?

There are so many fakes in the world, and so many losers. There are so many people who are selfish, and cruel, and incompetent, and live to make other people's lives hard. They're life's little hurdles, someone's sick idea of a joke when you're having a bad day. If you can't overcome some idiot who's stoned, drunk or otherwise ninety percent of the time, how are you supposed to make it in the world? They're tests. Of your kindness, patience, a test of the sturdiness of your faith. Among other things.

Everyone tries so hard to fit in, to conform to society's ideas of what is and isn't acceptable. What's wrong with stepping out of the circle, finding your voice, and being yourself? What's so wrong with wanting to live truthfully?

Everyone has a place in the world - all you have to do is look. Sometimes things don't turn out the way you think they will. Things get messed up, turned around, shoved into a blender and put on "fruit salad" and come out so messed up you don't think you'll ever sort it out again.

Here's some food for thought: even when you lie there at night and you shut your eyes and you wish you just wouldn't wake up, or that the kid teasing you would just die or get hit by a bus or whatever, or you're resenting someone or something and just want to give up... God keeps you breathing through the night. He could easily let you go without a fight, easily let your breath stop.

You might wish that you'd die. But you don't. You might wish you were thinner, but you aren't. You might wish you were nicer, but you aren't. You might wish that you're prettier, but you aren't. You might wish you're more talented, but you're not.

God loves you for who you are. Not who everyone else perceives you to be. Forget them.

You wish you'd die in your sleep. God could easily let you go.

But He doesn't. More than that, He WOULDN'T. God is strength when you have none. Just think that, for whatever reason... you're here.

[I am a question to the world
Not an answer to be heard
Not a moment to be held in your arms

And what do you think you'd even say
I won't listen anyway
You don't know me
And I'll never be what you want me to be

And how can the world want me to change
They're the ones that stay the same
They can't see me
But I'm still here
They can't break me
As long as I know who I am]

-a solitary blue