Friday, July 8, 2016


Jealousy is an interesting thing. It's a tiny monster, a green creature, a small speck of doubt in the back of your mind. It's always there, nagging, begging for attention. It grips you with its claws, and once it has you in its grasp, you will never be free again.

I get jealous very easily. Whether it's a friendship, or more often than not, a relationship, jealousy shows up like an unwanted relative at the door, demanding that I let it in.

Jealousy makes me bitter and snappy. I turn against people, and fear that I'll be left behind. It's bigger than a feeling for me now: some days it's more of a lifestyle. Not one I want, but one none the less. Always there, always whispering, always waiting to find my weak points. To stab the uncertainty into my insecurities, the chink in my armor. The second that doubt seeps into my mind, it's over. The monster claws at its chains, reaching and spitting, as I sit there quietly, and laugh it off.

Laugh it off, it really helps to laugh it all off. The laughing covers the sound of the doubt, the deafening silence that it produces. The laughter rises over the growling monster and the clinking chains. It rises and bubbles and no one can tell that the glint in my eyes is not just the sun shining brightly. It's the tears and the fears and the uncertainty that I live with daily.

Pretend not to care pretend not to care. People judge, when they learn about the monster living in my head. Why they do, I will never know. They all have their own monsters and their own doubt, but they judge all the same. I don't want to be the jealous friend, the clingy girlfriend. Yet the monster that's part of me is afraid: I don't want to be the friendless and the lonely. I'm so afraid of being left behind that I believe the doubts, the fears.

It doesn't go away. I've gotten better at controlling it, but it never leaves. I don't know why I have the monster anyway: maybe I was left one too many times as a child. It's anyone's guess, really. But it doesn't go away. You just learn to cope.

I learn to fall, even if I am so afraid that no one will catch me. I learn to let go, I learn to breathe. It doesn’t go away, but I learn to work through it, slowly. The laughing, the lashing out, the pretending. And the doubt... so much doubt, in the darkest corners of my mind.

Don't think I'm just this way by choice. I didn't choose this, and I'm working to alter it. To tame the monster in its cage, to work with the creature so we can both be free. I just get jealous because you're the best thing I've had in a long time, because I can't imagine losing what I now have. 

So please, think twice before you judge me and the monster living in my head, because I know you have your own battles to fight, however different. You and I are one and the same, both lost and spiraling through a beautiful yet terrifying world. Trying to figure everything out.

I live with a monster in my head, I live with constant jealousy. Constant doubt. Constant fear. I don't want to be the jealous friend, or the clingy girlfriend, but if you love me then you'll have to learn to work with me. I may have my monster, small and green, but I know that you have yours as well.


Thursday, July 7, 2016

Beauty V.S. Perfection

When did beauty become perfection? When did we stop telling our daughters and sons that beauty comes from inside, and start buying them makeup and telling them to work out? Now our teenagers are plastic and insecure, searching for a fake perfection that isn’t really perfect at all. 

Beauty is not this.

Beauty is not makeup caked on faces and muscular boys with perfect hair. It isn't what you need to get a boyfriend or a girlfriend. Beauty like that is irrelevant to both love and life. 

Society would tell me that the boy I love is imperfect in so many ways, but they would be wrong. He is beautiful and perfect to ME, regardless of his “imperfections”. He doesn’t spend an hour on his hair in the morning, and I love the way it sticks up. He doesn’t have crazy buff arms, and yet his hugs are still the best thing in this world.

I think he's beautiful, just like he thinks I am beautiful. I don’t have flawless skin or perfect eyebrows, but he loves it all any way. I don’t need all that foundation and eyeliner to feel beautiful, because I AM beautiful.

And maybe society would disagree. Call me ugly, and say that they could fix that pimple with some concealer, and pluck my brows. Tell me that they could MAKE me beautiful. But I don’t need them to think I’m beautiful if I already know that I am.

I always was, and I always will be beautiful, regardless of what society says. Because what they say isn't what matters. Beauty is not perfection- it never was, and it never will be. 
Remember that: Perfect is perfect, but beauty is something else. 

Beauty is a newborn child being held in their mother's arms for the first time. 

Beauty is a father dressing up like a princess to have a tea party with his daughter. 

Beauty is the sun on your face and the wind in your hair. 

Beauty is a 70 year old man holding hands with his wife of 50 years, and beauty is the glimmer in the eye of someone as you catch their gaze from across the room. 

Beauty is bubbling laughter, the kind that spills around the room and makes everyone else laugh along. 

Beauty is a little boy handing a dollar to that man on the corner, the homeless veteran who fought for us all in his younger days. 

Beauty is a first love, and beauty is a last breath, surrounded by family. 

Beauty is happiness and light, and the goodness in the world we live in. 

Beauty is not perfection, so stop thinking it is. The most perfect person isn’t the most beautiful on the inside OR the outside. 
Regardless of your race and gender, no matter what anyone tells you: You are BEAUTIFUL. 

Not perfect, but beautiful. And stay that way.