We were young and foolish. We had are sights set on the horizon. Smoking and drinking, telling a tale or two. We’d talk until the wee hours of the morning, kicking up the dust outside the cabin down by the railroad tracks. Looking up at the stars, we’d revel in the night. Sharing our dreams and aspirations, laughing and joking, we’d wittle ourselves into each other’s hearts. The fun we had. Making history in our lives with each other, we smiled. Driving down inbetween the corn stalks on the old country road, there couldn’t have been a better spot. We walked down that road time and time again looking over the horizon. Dreaming of tomorrow and living our dream, youthful bodies, full of luster and energy galore. I danced until twilight under the stars. Taking a full drink of the breadth of our friendships entertwined. Walking by the canal, and down the dirt road, we found each other. All of us, making a name for each other, with our own lips, our own hips, the way we dressed in our smug levis, and the way we talked with such passion for life. It seemed like tomorrow was the best yet to come. We didn’t know yet to value every moment, nor how to see the beauty in our comaraderie, how lucky we were!
Coming around the corner of the hallway, peering gently into the room, cautiously, he had just tried to convince her, with his hand softly on her shoulder, in almost a calm, steady, whisper, “tell it, let it out,” he said. Looking out over the veranda, in this country so beautiful, everything in white. The homes and the centerpieces and even the benches all were encassed in white. The pathway, it ambled like rolling hills to the side and down.
She wondered if the time had come, to open up and let the butterfly out. The energy was so pent up inside, that when she allowed herself to feel it, it exploded with so much intensity, that the room was full of sound. She let herself get caught up in it’s moment, and was taken aback by how strong the tidal waves came. With a rush, beams, colors of light flashed out of her being, and an orchestra played. The music crescendoed and danced in the air as if it were alive. Feeling as the center of a movie or a piece of action with so much heart, it whipped past her and through her and all around. It filled up the sky for miles around. It was so beautiful and so strong she felt things that she had felt many times before, but never in a rush like that, not so condensed. It told it’s own story as she let it shine. The storm of music and her heart wringing with tears, explaining things she kept wrapped up inside; after time had gone by, it quieted down.
She sat still and the tears fell. She cried and she cried, silently. Remembering again the scene that replays in her mind every day recently. Again she saw as she stood there, in silence watching them around her. Observing as she spoke to her, as she watched her comb her wig. Reluctantly stoic as she left her side and chose the shadow of another for the moment in safety. Not knowing what had happened or was happening at that, all but assuming for what she had been told.
Her friend, she came to the center of the room and as she was looking up to her, she spoke of her new transition, her new body, and again about the appointments. She wanted to wrap her arms around her and cry, to scream to the roof tops why? Her body was no longer her own but only a plastic shell. Because her emotion was so deep she finally understood. As she was in the center of the room silent, the storm inside her raged on. She thought for safety she must not say, for life she must not speak, for breath she must not tell. But the storm it froze inside her. The one that needed to come in a torrent, the one that needed to explode.
Stereotypes are cruel, and ruin lives. Why do so many people hate each other? Everyone has a soul, and a heart beating inside their chest. Everyone lives only one life. To spend it encumbered by others beliefs, can eat away inside, always concerned how this will come across or that. To be limited in one’s choices simply due to others not comprehending the true self behind the face, position, size, job status, income relatively, or what not. It all is so stifling, crushing, insinuating, and based on lies and deceit. Deceit of those who see without seeing, who lie to their very soul about who it is that they are looking at. Based in fear, or mistrust, ego, vanity, or the like, it all leads to distortion, never seeing what their attitude has done to another, or who that other really is inside.
There are so many stereotypes, that one may find the need to build a life around half truths, just to get by. Yet they can’t speak their very soul, for fear of saying something, that might be taken in such a way, that it could misconstrue their very being, and put them in jeopardy of being misunderstood.
We are not our jobs; or one mistake or two, or three or four for that matter, if it is corrected, if one has changed. We are not what we look like, or what we wear, what we drive, where we live, the color of our skin, how much money we make, or any of this other nonsense that is the basis upon so many other assumptions. Don’t put people in a box, or yourself for that matter either. We are what is inside.
Not everyone is given the same opportunities. And that’s okay. Count yourself lucky if you were born on the right side of the tracks. But do not look down on those less fortunate. For you do not know what it takes to claw your way up out of that black hole.
Fat people are not always fat because they are gluttons. Sometimes it is an illness, or an injury, or lack of knowledge in time.
Beautiful ladies are lovely, not necessarily dumb, or lucky for that matter. Maybe they worked hard to look that way. You never know. It could be an accomplishment.
Several actresses got their start in a strip bar. They are the same person now that they were then. But who’s worshipping them now, everyone.
Gay people are born that way. This world is so full of hate. Imagine having feelings that you didn’t ask for and you can not change. What one decides to do or not do about it is their business. It wasn’t a choice for them. They are different. Imagine if you were different than you presently are. Imagine if you were inside a body that looked and felt differently than you. Would this be your fault? Of course not. And if you could choose, why would anyone choose a life where so many would hate them for what they are? They wouldn’t, and that’s the point. They did not choose to be that way. It was thrust upon them, a gift for being born.
And race, where do I begin? Prejudice is color blind. It does not matter what color your skin is or where you came from, prejudice is free for all to find, be or experience. But why? Why? There are bad people of every color. It has nothing to do with race. It’s only on the inside that is the truth of it all. A book can not be judged by it’s cover.
And the propaganda, people eating it up, consuming it like candy. Please don’t feed the machine. Not until it decides to play fair and square. When someone makes money off of belittling someone else, this is not a game to be watched, it’s hypocrisy, America land of the free.
It’s all about the heart and looking past all of that. You say it’s not me? Well maybe not. But it’s all around, as far as the eye can see. All of the jokes, the laughter, the comments everywhere….It’s sad. It’s such a sad thing to see. And it’s frightening me.