NOT BORN TO BE BEAUTIFUL…

I have not been blogging for a while. Not for want of what to write. But I was not ready to put some of the things that I had been thinking out there. So I went back to my journal. To paper and pen. To the way it used to be. Ink stained hands and multiple cups of coffee and pens stuck in my braids. But today, I want to write. I want to put IT out there. I cannot help it much. The pulsing in me… the vibrations. Today, it is blog or die and once again, this is me writing to live.

From the moment I could reason, I have had people always be on the other side of me. People NEVER understand me and it is a cross that I have had to bear for quite a while.  A big old raggedy heavy cross. My personality. How can? But hey, no more. Who I am ceases to be a cross as of this moment. Now, it is my cloak…. warming me, protecting me, keeping me company. My precious.

To be fair, the world cannot be completely blamed for not understanding me. It is true that I am not exactly your “girl next door” type of female. People naturally just tend to stay away from or not like what they cannot understand. So I do not blame them. If the word “blame” is to be used, then perhaps, the blame is all mine.

You see what I mean?

I am simple yet complicated.

Instead of saying a simple “No”, I will look for the Zulu version of it and say that one instead.

I almost always read between the lines… flipping CIA behaviour!

I don’t tell lies but my truths are always soo… deep. So raw. So unforgiving. What am I, a truth serum junkie???

I resist ALL forms of unwanted authority. Again, read UNWANTED.

I can make Gordian knots out of any string.

Yes… I am sweet and sour and I throw curve balls just for the heck of it.

I blatantly ignore the people I do not like and for the ones that I love, I “act drama” and I bother them. It is my way of saying “Hey… I love you… please stay alive”

I do not know how to smile at people who don’t resonate with my soul… I steer clear of them.

I do not know how NOT to sometimes push away the people who matter when it actually matters.

I cannot sit comfortably in a crowd of women… I’m not as interested in clothes and make up as much as I should be, neither will I say ”you look hot” when you most definitely do not. But I can flourish with a battalion of men… because with them, there is more sincere joking and talk of things that actually matter to me and no one will hate me just because I am tall and talk weird, I am at home with the XYs. Aye. I cannot help it. It is the way I am.

I am a nerd whose limbs do not understand the concept of dance.

I cried when I could not find my Outlander book but I was indifferent when I almost died from Gastritis.

I love to cook but I but I never disclose the fact… (oops! I just did).

I believe that sneakers should be worn to clubs and not heels.

I am way too emotional for my own good… too fluid, too compelling, my soul can swallow a person whole. Yet, I can be different shades of unyielding.

But that is who I am. I cannot for the life of me change any of the parts. The more I try, the more I injure myself. Like hitting my head against a brick wall.

Sometimes, I meet people. They like me because I am interesting. Because I am different. But ultimately, they hate the things that make me interesting. A person can like the fact that I run every morning but still hate the colour of my running shoes. A person will be moved by my capacity to feel on all levels, but will shy away from the intensity when it is directed towards them. That is the kind of life I live. Misunderstood by most, loved by few.

Do I mind?

No.

What I mind though, is the constant intrusion into my life. The constant nagging to change. They tear at me from different directions, these people. Yet they seek comfort in my essence. But how can my essence be my essence, be there to comfort them, if I am not functioning on all my frequencies? Do we not know, that nothing good is ever truly easy at first? That interesting people often lead lives that few will understand? Do we not understand that if the Sun were to permanently stop shining because some people were allergic to UV rays, that there would be darkness for eternity?

I come out on stage and perform and everyone loves me. They applaud, all of them. But the price for my performance, they cannot pay. In truth, I love performing. I will let them watch me for free. But I will not bleed for free. I will not use my blood to paint amazing pictures for people to just “ooooh” and “ahhhh” about. None of that. No more.

I was not born to be beautiful. I was not born to be my president’s definition of prime citizen nor my boss’s definition of professional. I was born to be me, in all my sweet and sour glory. I cannot promise you long and everlasting hours of calm… I am way too active for that. I cannot also promise that you will not feel like strangling me sometimes. However, I can assure you, promise you, that it will be worth it. My kisses will light you up… my hugs will erase the concept of cold from your mind, and my love… ahhh… my love will keep you alive in all the ways that matter.

But that’s not why I blogged today.

Not at all.