How do you do it?
I just take her as the wild child she is. I believe that, more than anything, what she needs is for someone to take her as is. Just as she is. I’ve always longed for that… though it took a while for me to realize that God is that one. It took some shifting of my gears, but 95% of it was His grace. And until she can see that too, I’m trying my best to do that for her. It’s what I can give her, but to be honest I’ve always wanted to do this for people. I like getting the chance to share big hearts together instead of concealed, small ones. That’s when you can see the real sh*t that’s inside – both the best and worst sides of a girl. Or just about anyone.
Dang, I don’t know how you can calm her down.
I give her time. She can’t always vocalize in a formal, controlled, and adult manner all the turmoil that she’s feeling. It runs like a busy stream that rumbles through her bloodstream and arteries and lung passages and forbids her to always breathe since it’s too strong of a current. Her strength, which holds her heart safe, is getting more and more worn out from the stream, as pieces break out and fling themselves at the crevices of her inner being. The current’s too strong, and her everything is too weak. She’d like to be more calm if she could. If her mental state will warrant her. If she can be completely accepting of her own flaws and perfections alike and embrace herself as if she is a thorny rose. But because she can’t, she needs other people to. It will only take the effort of the few who can see past the thorns into the flower that she can become after the storm. Those are the people meant to be with her – and I want to be one of those select few.
What if she never changes?
She’s multi-faceted, as we all are. One side tends to be stronger, more vocalized and upfront than the rest of the “performance” that you, and I, and all of us tend to put on. Every piece of the show leads to the grand finale, which will be her true self.
What an idealist.
If only you knew just how bad I can get. It’s only because I’d been there. She needs to go through the storm in order to make it out, otherwise she’ll never have truly lived.
How was it when you were her?
Lonely. Dark. Suffocating. Putting on a performance felt like I was being choked, but being too real would be unveiling all of my thorns – which nobody liked, especially during grade school. But now that I’m in my young 20’s, people seem to embrace empathy and raw feelings (for the most part) and it’s a nice shift. Now, all the remaining bits of darkness can emerge in their timing for me to exfoliate (heh).
Can the fire ever be put out forever?
No way. Life has a never-ending batch of matches and old cigarette butts repeatedly used to put people back into the stake. Just know that nothing lasts forever, and you’ve absolutely no idea what will really kill you. It’s never the moment that you think it will be, nor will it be the day that you predict in order to prepare yourself for a vague idea of torment. It just comes and goes, like everything else has been doing since the concept of time has first been born.
Even that wasn’t always there, you know?