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Ode to It


A fear that haunts me: I am letting my glory days pass me by as moments straddled between Netflix and self-doubt. It seems I so often lack the courage to gather my tools and build something out of myself. I am unhappy, but content.

To live among the shadows hurts, but this initial pain makes it worth avoiding the sting of the light.

Something I've come to believe is the fact that some people are born with It. The It - charisma, talent, humor, attraction - whatever the positive quality, it combines with one part charm and another part luck.

And a star is born.

But this notion is tragic. And, admittedly, quite sad. Especially on the days when I count myself outside the circle of those who possess It. The truth of the matter is not that a handful have It, but that It is contained within 100% of all living, breathing cases.

To varied, unlocked degrees.

Sometime after my muse passes and the words empty themselves out, I will long for It. Emotional beings such as myself seem to long so often, and this only proves to be a negative notion when that's as far as it goes.

I insist that we each have lightness underfoot. Said another way: Yearning for more can only take you so far. It is the steps you take to making your fantasies a reality that truly matter.

My daydreams include harboring best friends and moments of spontanaity. Let's take a drive without a destination in mind. Baked cookies and crowns made of wild flowers. Pinkie promises and old books that smell like lavender or sea spray.

I see not through eyes that hold the traditional vision, but instead, I see something uniquely my own. Thanks to my It.

It, oh It. Where art thou, my It? You are the passion and the energy. The things I do without another thought. What I invest countless hours in because I love doing it that much. You are my childhood of dance classes and American Girl dolls.

You are experimental.

You are messy.

You are the laughter evoked by simple gestures.

And you live within me.

Vow to me, dear It, that you will never leave me entirely. You may vacation. You may melt away. You may turn invisible. But don't abandon me altogether, lest my fears are meant to become true the day you do.

Whether the day comes or does not, I promise to embrace you fervently. To seek you out with courage and go beyond what is my cozy Comfort Zone.

A courageous thought: My glory days are the days I make the most out of - whether great adventures take place, or not.

Comments

  1. i can totally relate to this! i love how you said "it is the steps you take to making your fantasies a reality that truly matter." so true!!
    -audrey
    http://honestlyaudrey.com

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Audrey, I'm glad someone understands. :) Thank you for commenting! <3

      Delete
  2. The things you write have so much meaning. Thank you for sharing this. I think that a lot of us are born with the effortless charm but only a handful of those people can use it correctly. I need to start spending my time like I want to. I will be turning 20 and 20-30 I want to make sure are memorable years for myself.

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    Replies
    1. Oh Vanessa, you have made me blush! Thank YOU for reading and commenting. Yes, I completely agree. I'm almost 20 as well and though it scares me, I'm keen on making these years memorable for myself, too.

      I wish all the best for you. <3

      Delete
  3. I relate to this. I am so scared of wasting my life.

    ReplyDelete
  4. This. <3

    xoxo Abigail Lennah | ups & downs

    ReplyDelete
  5. ASDFJKLASDFJL... omg tell me about It... I feel this so much. I sort of fooled myself into believing that success was something conventional like getting into a good school and having a monetarily rewarding career that would change the world, but recently that's changed. I've realized that the thing that made me most happy was doing the creative, messy, spontaneous stuff that I love, and I'd come close to losing it. This post helped me think through a lot of that confusion, so thank you a million, and wow, did I ramble or what? XD

    ReplyDelete

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