Here's to the girls who try their hardest to be good enough for everyone; who spend hours reading random quotes to find the perfect one; who listen to the same song dozens of times because the lyrics mean a lot; who deserve so much more that they get and are willing to fight for it and whose wish upon a shooting star was wasted on someone that will never care.
It always begins that way. A hundred promises, a million feelings. Something new and exciting, but something familiar at the same time. The sky becomes infinite and the sun doesn’t seem so harsh. One finds themselves caught in a hazy whirlwind of colors and experiences that are indistinguishable. It is all too beautiful. But it is also all too terrible. Because when the aftermath comes and one realizes the hurricane they’ve been through, they realize that they stand in the ruins of what once was. And so it goes. Time and time and time again, hurricanes become spring breezes and bone chilling cold becomes excited goosebumps. And all too soon we realize, We realize the truth and the terror and the reality. It all happens too soon. So are the seasons of time.
In my little experience, the feelings at first are soft and uncertain. Meek, if you will. They begin a whisper and never grow beyond a level tone. They subside and flow, but barely swell. They are a melody, sung underneath your breath, afraid to be heard. And they are beautiful. Small and feeble but beautiful nonetheless.
But then comes the end. It is bittersweet, and takes time. The melody becomes distorted and lack of harmony grows and reverberates between my ears. The rough edges cut my head and eventually smooth out. And so time goes on. And feelings change, love grows, love goes, love hides away.
It was a mess. Unfamiliar. Uncomfortable. Unhealthy. Tainted. Distorted. Chaotic. Terrifying. But God help me: it was all that, but it was also love.