A work of Art.

I'm so thankful that I have friends.

All kinds of friends.

All over the world.

From all kinds of backgrounds.

With all kinds of hearts.

And passions.

And personalities.

When I meet people, I often associate them with works of art.

This is probably the creative side in me bursting through.

There are all different mediums.

An array of colors, shapes, sizes.

There are no limitations.

Unlimited possibilities.

There are no mistakes.

Each imperfection just makes the piece more beautiful, more unique.

Each part of the piece was crafted for a purpose.

No piece of art is ever viewed the same.

Unlimited possibilities.

Every person is a work of art.

Handcrafted.

No mistakes.

Just beauty.

Not a single piece made just like them.

I'm really, really thankful for that.

I wish...

there could be justice for a broken heart.

I wish I could determine who will take care of it.
And who will toss it aside.

I wish I could tell it not to feel anything really.

I wish it were easier to let go.
And I wish it were harder for others.

And I wish I were better at caring for people's hearts.
Sometimes I feel like that's the reason mine gets broken.

I wish it were easier to live in the present.
And keep the past in the past.

I wish I wasn't so angry right now.

Right now, when all I'm supposed to be doing is loving and enjoying and laughing.
I'm just angry.

“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.”

Responsibility.

Responsible.

I've always hated that word.
I can't pinpoint why.

By definition, responsible means to be:

answerable or accountable, as for something within one's own power, control or management.



When it comes to responsibility, my main tactic has always been ignorance.

Ignore the problem, and it will eventually go away.
Ignore it long enough and it will solve itself.

It makes me sick even admitting that, but it's the truth.

I'm realizing now that my ignorance has done damage.
Not only to others, but to myself.

Many times I find myself saying, "I just want them to take responsibility for their actions."
But what I really need is to be accountable for my own actions.

Everything within me is within my control.

I'm responsible for myself.
I'm responsible for how I treat others.
I'm responsible for taking care of me.
I'm responsible for my attitude.
I'm responsible for my motivation.
I'm responsible.

Avoidance doesn't solve any problem.
Even if it goes away, what have I done for myself?
What have I done for the person it affected?

While I am still bad at taking responsibility, I'm at least starting to realize the problem.
And I am starting to fix it.
It's hard. It will take time.
But I want to start making more decisions for my life.
I want to embrace responsibility and let it grow in my life in bigger ways.

I'm also learning that responsibility isn't a bad thing or a burden or a negative.
It's a step towards becoming more myself.
It's a step towards building better friendships and relationships.
It's a step towards achieving my goals.
It's a step towards being real.

It's actually a very freeing thing.

I think I'll give responsibility another chance.

laughing at myself.

Questions.
There are all kinds of questions in the world.
Some are easy.
Some are confusing.
Some make you think.
Some make you laugh.
Some are annoying.
Some are hard.

Regardless, they all are searching for an answer.

Where do the answers come from?

Textbooks?
Educated people?
Somewhere inside of us?

Are the answers always what we want them to be?
Is it possible to accept answers without a bias?

Where does the bias come from?
Experiences?
Our upbringing?
Our parent's opinions?

Are the answers to any of our questions actually our answers?
How would we know if they were?

If we only answer the questions we want to answer, is there any point to answering the questions at all?

Most importantly, why do I have so many questions?

Messiness.

Everything in my life feels kind of messy right now.

My clothes are strewn all over my room.
My school books are all out of order.
My vanity is overflowing with make-up and hair ties.
My mind can't seem to produce a focused thought.
My heart fell out of my chest, I think.
It left a big hole full of chaos.

I like to be organized and in control.
I like things to look perfect.
I like them to be neat and orderly.
Not just my books.
Not just my room.
Not just my vanity.

My heart.
My mind.
My soul.
My feelings.

But I'm learning that the messiness doesn't really need to be controlled.
It doesn't need to be put in its "place."
It doesn't have to be neat and it certainly can wander away from perfection.

The messy can be good.

The mind can produce beautiful words in the midst of chaos.
The heart can feel more alive when it's out of order.
My soul can find peace in the disorder, the inconsistency, the confusion.
That peace doesn't have to mean everything is right.
Or in its place.
Or perfect.

Messiness makes me more accepting, more open.
It makes me let go of control and just let things happen.
I feel more free inside, to let my soul be.

Embrace the messy.
It's okay.