By Ashley Mott
There are these moments in time where everything just stands still. Moments of inspiration that you never know are going to hit. It is these moments, in those few breaths that come from your lungs, that you put pen to paper and write like the words were written on your soul for an eternity just waiting to come out. To this day I don’t know when those will happen, I just know that when that urge to write, to put words into the air like physical objects, hits there is no ignoring it.
Lately, there has been a void of inspiration. Like a dry spell of the lyrics that make my heart skip to the beat of life. I find myself looking into the void wondering where my next step will take me, if I’m travelling on the right path or if I’m just putting one foot in front of another because of an expectation set out before me. I spent my entire life trying to please others, to be the best at everything that I could because I thought that would make people love me, make me special.
I’ve learned since then, that pleasing others does nothing but hurt your own soul if what you’re doing doesn’t make you happy too. See I say that I have a backbone, and I do. But, it comes at the cost of being ruthless to the core. If I want to stand up for myself and be strong, I have to abandon the empathetic side of me or I’ll start to feel so much I can’t control it. If I give in, I only feel the anger, the discontempt, the pain.
I’ve learned that to keep that side at bay I have to feel the fear, the love, the joy and everything else that comes with being empathetic. However, it comes at a cost. It means I can never stand up for everything I want because now I am too afraid to hurt those close to me, so I let them walk all over me in fear of losing people because so many have left me behind. It’s ironic that I want to protect the people close to me, considering so many of the people who hurt me the most claim to be my best friends. They claim to want what’s best for me, to never judge and never want to hurt others and yet that is exactly what they do to me.
Small comments are made, not meant to have the intention of judging, but judging all the same. I want to shout and scream and cry. I want to feel it all but I am afraid it will destroy me in the process. So, I compartmentalize. I put everything into tiny boxes that I open one at a time in segments of a timeline so that they are not overwhelming. No one hears the screaming in my head, the voice shouting and banging at the walls in my skull for me to feel it all. No one hears the pain that I feel because the scream wont rip from my throat. I won’t allow it. I can’t let the world see — even though if I do, it means I’ll be free.
“I can’t let the world see — even though if I do, it means I’ll be free.”
How to tell those you love that there is something wrong, there is a pain and a fear inside that has always been there and just amplifies with every issue or scare. How to tell the world that you’re different, and while you aren’t afraid of who you are — you are afraid of how they will perceive you. That it is because of the bounds they put on you to be perfect and pretty and walk the line, that you can’t step out for fear of rejection. I’m told I am something of a protegee but don’t they know that I don’t want to be? I set out the please because that’s what I’ve always done. But, if I keep achieving these impossible standards, what will you think of me when the day comes that I can’t reach one.
“If I keep achieving these impossible standards, what will you think of me when the day comes that I can’t reach one.”
These are the questions that plague my mind daily. Wondering why I was chosen for this path. Unfortunately, I don’t think I will ever know. Until I find out, I will continue to write in hopes that someone else knows how this feels and that maybe the words carved into my soul can help them. They say the eyes are the windows to the soul, but to anyone who’s ever fallen in love with a work of art made by words, I have to say I think you’ll disagree.
“To anyone who’s ever fall in love with a work of art made by words, I have to say I think you’ll disagree.”