O1.

It was like you were the light; Bright, vibrant and attractive 

      And I was the unexpecting insect; curious and in awe of you and so, I risked my life just to be close to you. 

But I soon realized that, the closer I flew towards your glow, the more damaging you became. 

    Your touch sent fire to my veins and restricted my air. Your guiding glow became my home. No matter how much you hurt me, no matter how many times your power knocked me to the ground, I would collected myself, wipe off the dirt, and fly back to you hoping that this time would be the one time you wouldn’t scorch my wings. 

It’s been years since the first night I laid eyes on your light, I am all but a body now. My wings have been burnt to ash and my legs are broken. However, I’m still here, Im still clinging on to the unrealistic hope that you will lift me up with your powerful light and love me the way I love you. 

But all I am is a bug, and you, you are a radiant and powerful light. 

May 10th

It is in the minutes before I am fully awake that I think of you the most. I see you, and for just a moment in time, I feel as though your not so far away. It is in those first few moments of my day where I am able to feel whole again, where all the pieces that have been swept away somehow find their way back and I can breath. I am neither depressed nor anxious and I am able to enjoy the birds chirping and the smell of spring.

Those moments are but temporary; although, I wish they weren’t. I dread the milliseconds that pass and know that as soon as I move, as soon as my alarm goes off, I will be thrown back into the storm.

The storm that has become my life. The Dark thick clouds that seem to rest comfortably upon my soul ignite and spark, they drowned out the little bits of hope I managed to hang on to, they set fire to my heart with rods of lightening and cause fear with their loud thunderous screams. It feels as though I am in the middle of an empty field, with nothing but uprooted trees and fractured pieces of my heart around me.

And through those booming screams, I am overcome with the realization that I don’t even know who “you” are or why you seem to calm the storm.

R A C E

Race.

Not the kind of race in which we run and see who crosses the finish line first, that’s simple; No, I’m talking about the color of our skin, the place our ancestors came from, the box we check when we’re asked about our ethnicity. Our roots, while very important, are not suppose to be all the outside world sees; our ethnicity isn’t suppose to separate us from other people or stick us in subcategories that we really don’t fit into. The year is 2016, but sometimes I feel like it is still 1916, 1816.

Why does the pigment of our skin, the religion we follow, the language we speak, the customs we participate in, or the place our families migrated from matter? Why do we still base every little thing on race. Why do we group people of the same religion in with the “bad” people who fall within the same religion, ethnicity, etc. We stereotype people based on what we think we “know”. People assume Syrian refugees are only here to harm us, or bring their war over seas, those same people assume all African American men are thugs or that all Indigenous people are all lazy drunks. We blame an entire group of people for what happened on September 11th many years ago, and we belittle an entire race of people for the way they coped with residential school trauma.

But why?

Why do we continue down this hatred paved path where we allow our ignorance to cloud our judgement and continuously blame innocent people for things that they weren’t even a part of? I don’t know, But I know it needs to stop. Something needs to change, we need to stop looking into the roots of people, at the color of their skin, or of how they decide to dress and base our judgements – because people will always judge – on the person they personally are, not who they remind us of or on who they may be related to. We need to realise that our world started out as one, whether you believe in creation untitledor evolution, we all came from the same place. We all began, every race, every ancestor,  in Pangea. Our world was one. I am one of the palest white girls I have ever known, mostly because I hate bugs and being hot so I don’t go tanning in the summer, but its also my genetics. I was born with blue eyes and dark blonde hair and so the world just sees me as a Caucasian. I like to surprise them and inform them that, yes mostly white/Caucasian/European and I haven’t had to deal with racism and (as much) hate, I am also Middle eastern, Native American, and a whole handful of other ethnicities. What I’m trying to prove is that we are not our race or the color of our skin. We are not our religion, we are not the language we speak or the god we pray to, we are not the same as the bad people who share the same home land, we are all unique and beautiful and we shouldn’t fear being who we are or be procescuted for what our ancestors did before we were even a thought in our parents minds; we are all one.

I realize that most people don’t see it that way, or perhaps I’m generalizing as well, but I have met more people who judge others by what happened in the past or by what they look like. I’m not going to sit here and act like I haven’t been that kind of person, I can’t say I never placed a certain religion, race or type of people in one group based on what the media reports or because of one bad person. But ive realized that no one deserves to be judged based on what we don’t know or understand or because of their skin tone. I guess once the roles are reversed and you get a taste of how much it hurts you change.

I’m not perfect and I know that, I use to fear middle eastern people and judge East Asian families based on their ability to build dream homes – which in reality was just my jealousy – but I also judged my primary race. I use to speak down on catholic people because of Residential schools. I would judge Europeans for taking land that wasn’t available to be “claimed”, for enslaving other races, for their ignorance and holy-er than thou attitudes. I was always trying to cope with the fact that my primary ethnicity, my ancestors, hurt – and continue to hurt – so many people in so many ways and in my own way make up for their mistakes.  But when I fell in love with a boy from another ethnicity he only saw me as a white girl. He knew who I was inside, he knew how much I hated the fact that Europeans caused so much pain to other races, he knew I wasn’t the same and yet he grouped me into that category and used it against me. I let him. I won’t put it all on him because I was already struggling with it. I allowed him to stay close to me because I thought he would change his mind one day, if he saw how much I loved him, how much I hated my own “kind”. It never worked, it just allowed the wound to fester and cause irreversible pain.

That pain changed me. Every time I see or hear someone judging someone based on what they looked like on the outside I remember the pain I felt. I put myself in their shoes and I understand; I empathize, I can’t understand the depths of the pain people feel when they love with the racism daily, but I can empathize, And it kills me. It kills me to know that people deal with this daily.

I wish one day we’ll be one again; but I think we all know that won’t happen anytime soon…

Sometimes, well… Okay most of the time I suppose, I wish I could turn back time.

I wish I could go back to being 14 and change my entire life, I wish I had been smarter, tried harder and maybe move slower. I wish I had been more open and honest with my mom at the time, but I was fed such horror stories about how “mean” she was to my sister that I feared she’d be mad at me for my mistakes.

***

I’m getting so tired – both emotionally and physically – of being so sad, so stuck in the img_7885past, so unable to move forward, so insecure and unable to be a “normal” almost 26 year old. I’m so tired of being alone. Its human nature to crave closeness, to want to be around someone. Cuddling helps soothe anxiety and can actually help fight depression – basically the needs we had when we were infants are the same as what we need and crave now, but this world is so scared to admit that. Myself included.

When did we become so unhuman, so bot like? Why do we glamorize and promote sexuality but fear admitting that we need a hug or to be close to someone. I don’t understand why and how we became so unable to express love the way generations before us did. I don’t get it. I don’t think I’ll ever understand the ways of this world though.

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I’m hurting 

This is a different side of the person you guys have been experiencing, I’m finally allowing my anger out. Please excuse my language.

Why the fuck do “men” these days act like teenagers still!? Like your almost 30 and your still acting like a 16 year old? Playing this fucking I love you shit after a god damn day? You love a person who lives 3 provinces away? How the fuck!? 

In grade 5 I would have pulled that crap, in grade 10 I would have pulled that shit too. But once I turned 17 I understood that love, real love, takes time. You can’t love a person you don’t know, you can’t love a person you’ve never seen angry or sad or sleep deprived. You can’t love someone who you’ve never seen stressed, you can’t love someone based on the outside. Do you know her demons? Or the things that lurk in the back of his mind at night when it’s quiet? Do you accept his insecurities or encourage her to be better? NO you probably don’t. Will you be there when they are experiencing loss? Can you stand up and be their backbone when they’ve lost their nerve? 

How can you love someone when 2 weeks ago you were sleeping with another girl? 

Or messaging me telling me to come cuddle? Or inviting me to meet your son?

I’m angry because I am hurt

I’m hurt because I let my walls down to allow someone new in and it back fired on me. 

I’m hurt because I told you about my insecurities and you listened, you told me about yours and together we bonded over the sorrow we’ve both been through.

I’m hurt because we shared so much in common, but I should have known. I should have known from past mistakes that drugs and alcohol will always be stronger then any bond or shared interests. 

I’m hurt because for the first time in 3 years I wanted to break my sobriety and drink until I felt nothing. 

I’m hurt because I cared about someone who had absoultely no intentions of caring about me. 

I’m hurt and I’m angry 

And I hate that I have to deal with this again.

Search not for the perfect person, not for the person who ignites the heated passion of lust. Do not seek the flawless, do not wish upon a star for someone that will calm your inner demons.

Instead, pursue the flawed; open your heart to the possibility that your forever isn’t societies idea of perfect. Allow your demons to meet theirs, embrace the imperfect, the broken and those who need love just as much as you do. Because we are all just cells and water and flesh and bone, we are muscles and organs and we feel pain. We are human we aren’t perfect, we will never be. We are flawed and broken and searching for something that will soothe and calm our worried minds and broken hearts.

***

Love isn’t suppose to be forced, stressful or made based on your physical attraction to each other; yet here we are focused more on the beauty of those around us that we do not notice the inner beauty, the kind souls, the kind of things that time can’t steal; the kind of things were to shallow to see. I am just as faulted as anyone in this, I search for perfection, for a certain race, look and height. The sad reality is that my “perfect guy” in looks is not the perfect personality, is not the soul that feels like home, not my forever. 

Perhaps, that is why I’m single. I am actively pursuing those that looks perfect rather then the men who’s souls match with mine.