Im...perfect

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I am interesting. I know that. I don't even have to pretend to be that person because I have been born that way. I don't pride myself with that adjective because I am worth-knowing, but because I tend to be deviated from the norm--and it's not even in an I-don't-wanna-conform way. I am interesting because my brain's probably tangled in a different kind of technique. I talk a lot, and I keep things a lot. I want people, and people scare me. I love poetry, and I don't appreciate other people's dramas. I am always happy, while I'm usually bored... I'm always in the middle, really. And everybody has to agree with me, that being in the middle is not a very good thing.

I am spontaneous. Adventurous, you may say. Not because I don't care about what can and will happen to me (because I care a lot about these things), but because I want to see more of the world, I want to be more enchanted by the beauty of this world and this life's experiences. But my actions that show me to be carefree can get me killed. Is it good to just jump into experiences, and just die at the brink of it?

I am an escapist. I can hardly deal with things that I don't want. I live in the belief that I should live my life to the fullest. And is it good that way? To just keep on running from things that I don't wanna deal with. It's true that I choose my battles, but is it good to quit battles I've already started fighting in?

People may say that I am very much satisfied with myself, and I say that the least person I ever want in this world is me. I am crazy, not interesting. I am impulsive, not spontaneous. I am a coward, not just an escapist. How can someone reach their full contentment in who they are? I am flooded with insecurities. Being hurt by the people I've trusted and loved makes me feel like my love can never be reciprocated. It's effect on me is not the thinking that I can't love again, but the thinking that I can love but it's really okay if they can't loved me back because I know it's quite difficult to appreciate someone like me.

The thing with me is that I really don't like myself most of the times. Why? Many reasons. Sometimes it's because of the way I look, most of the times it's me and my big mouth, then it'll be because of the way I think and react, plus my impulsiveness, and then this thin skin for when emotions attack. I mean, sometimes... oftentimes, I get tired of myself.

I look like someone who's unafraid and who's always ready to conquer. I'm restless, but maybe because there's something within me that I don't want to prevail. I try to realize what is in life for me. And I travel the world looking for a purpose. And that's it?

No. My insecurities are just a part of me. They happen but they're not me. They exist, because somewhere within anyone's core, insecurities live. Having them is not a disease, because we are all in fear one way or another. It is how we deal with them that matters.

Just a story. One of the things about me is that when I am in front of a guy I like, I pose the ugliest me: I eat a lot, and I swallow the too-spoonfuls of food, I laugh loudly, I speak my mind out (even if it turns out to be really sarcastic), etc. It is not because I am shielding myself from being loved or appreciated. It is because I am afraid to get hurt--by making a guy fall for the wrong me, and then being left because I was a mistake after all. This is what my insecurities do to me, they make me honest. They make me brave. Because realizing them and not being afraid of what they can do to me and not being afraid to show them, well... they help me find the real me.

People say that the first person who can accept us is us. I've been working on that from day one, but finding out that people can actually love me even if I show them my ugliest, it helps me realize my real identity. I am someone loved. I am someone special. I am worthy. It is because Someone really loved me that much, and I am worth too much for anything to even doubt my own importance. It makes me realize what love is really about, but that's another story (maybe for another post). They say that we should never find our self-worth from others, but having other people love me despite the roughest sides of me exposed, makes me feel that there should never be space for self-hate. It somehow helps. Really.

We are expected of many things, but what other people don't know is that most of the times, during our battles, we are afraid. It's not because we're weak, but because this reality is universal. My life is a series of disappointments, guilt, and failures. I'm not cool enough not to regret anything in my life. Because I always end up scolding myself for my stupidity. I'm on the road to forgiving myself from what I lack though. I know that it's being honest to say that I am weak, but it's another thing to fully realize that I am worthy. I am deserving of appreciation. And I am free to live this life--dealing with a series of mistakes and regrets and falling and of rising and forgiving and loving.

Spell Beautiful

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We are all broken,
That's how the light gets in.
-Ernest Hemingway

Sometimes I get confused with preferences and standards. The concepts of the un-beautiful and the overlooked. Are we always boxed within predetermined concepts that we end up adjusting to meet those standards, failing to find out what's true, pure and sincere? Wouldn't it be a lot more empowering to understand and perceive surfaces with the context underlying and surrounding them?

What is the meaning of "beautiful"? Is it an appearance or is it an expression? An appearance that is changeable and variable with time and events? Or an expression of something that is within, of something more powerful and more genuine, of pains, joys, curiosities, and passions?

You are beautiful. I'm not saying this because this line has been available and rehearsed by most people to appreciate people. There is a certain depth to these words that only those who choose to look will understand. Everyone has beauty. And every one of us should appreciate each other's beauty. But let me add another idea here. 

We are all beautiful but this beauty we possess can only be visible if we choose to show it. Never think that the definition of beautiful is the standard set by people whose eyes see only the shallowest. The beauty in you is the reality that is within you. It may be absurd, it may be unacceptable, it may be imperfect... according to the predetermined standards. What makes you real is what makes you human, and that itself makes you beautiful. 

We have fears. We are afraid that the reality in us may limit us from being accepted or loved, but true acceptance and true love sees through imperfections and weaknesses. True love appreciates real beauty. When we tamper this authentic beauty with pretensions and with efforts to climb up the society's standards, that's when we choose to hide the beautiful in us. But if we remain true and pure, then, there would we find those who will love us with sincerity. We should allow people to love the real beauty in us. 

You think you're unusual? There's so much beauty in what's different. There's so much beauty in the real expression of the spirit within everyone's flesh. Don't get bothered that you're deviated from the norms, as long as it's real and true, it is ethereal and worthy of love and appreciation.  

These words are not new. They've been paraphrased, translated, rephrased, spoken, written, believed, rejected, passed on from nations to nations, among peoples, throughout time. But its timelessness proves its strength. All of us should be reminded of these things everytime, so we might not falter to look for the wrong kind of love through the wrong ways of beautifying ourselves.

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A reminder to self

PS, this certain post's font style is annoyingly different from the whole blog's font style. Tried to do something about it, but it ain't changing ugh. Just saying.