I am an emotional being. I wear my feelings on my sleeves and often do not see the need to cover them up. Why? I'm still trying to figure that out...
But, as often as I show my emotions, I often do no talk about them. Why? I'm trying to figure that out too. But, within the past couple of weeks, my emotions have been traveling all around the world and back and it feels as if I my emotional instability is due to the lack of understanding of my own feelings.
So...I guess, right now, I am going to try to express myself the best way that I know how...writing.
I love...
I love but I am so full of fear for love itself. I have a heart bigger than I can explain in just one post, but I do not know how to disperse it in healthy dosages. I have watched myself give damn near my soul to those who wouldn't piss on me if I was on fire. I have watched myself walk away from those who would have given their last breath for me. Why? Because, I fear that if you "love" me, you want something from me and if I love you, I become blind to the "wants" you drain from me. My soul is so full of love, yet my brain is so full of precautions. I think too much. I form conclusions too much. I create situations in my mind that lead me to believe that people are out to get me. So I have to get before I get got (in my Madea voice). How do I get? By simply shutting down. I will get myself to feel nothing before you get me to feel it all. But, this is a defense mechanism that has been failing me for the past 2 years. I can't hide the fact that I care from my own self.
I get angry...
I get angry because I feel misunderstood by many. My thought process confuses even myself, so how the hell do people expect me to explain myself to them? I can't. All I can say is that you do not need to understand me. I barely understand myself. But God understands me. That's all that matters. I know that I can be a brat. When things do not go my way, I get angry. When I feel disrespected, I get angry. When a person breaths wrong...well, I have been known to get a little agitated over minute things. But, I know that much about myself. And believe me when I say that I am working on it. Anger is not a thing of God. So it is no longer a thing of me. But, to be real, I have to admit, my anger is connected to a lot of my childhood. As fabulous as I am now, I wasn't always this sassy girl with the cat-eyed eyeliner. I was once a child who got teased and bullied. I did not know how to defend myself, so I would hold it all in until I got home and then would lock myself into my room and cry...for hours. I caused harm upon myself. I cursed at God. I hated myself along with everyone around me. It took me until I was 16 to learn how to stand up for myself. It took me until I was 16 to stop blaming God. It took me until I was 16 to love myself and forgive the miserable bastards that tormented me for being "chubby", "an oreo", a "nerd", and called so many other names that I laugh at now. I have surpassed my younger self by relieving myself of a lot of my anger, but I also know that I have a shorter fuse because I feel the need to defend myself before you even TRY to do me wrong. There's no excuse for it...it's just me. I'm working on it.
I understand...
I understand people more than they will ever know. It's both a blessing and a curse. Call it the Libra in me, but I do not judge people whatsoever. A stranger could walk up to me with a bloody machete in their hands, and I would be the person to attempt to soothe them as I imagine myself in their shoes. I think that's why I give so many people second (and third...forth...tenth) chances. I always see myself in someone else's shoes. Trust me when I say that my friends hate coming to me when they are mad at someone because I am always the one who brings both parties' feelings into the mix for a justified conclusion of the issue. But, understanding people while barley understanding myself leaves me confused. Why can I understand why Billy pushed me down, but I can't understand why I screamed back at Billy?
I dream...
I dream of a life for myself and those that I love that is so big that not even I can comprehend it. I want the penthouse suite with the new hardwood floors and brick walls overlooking the city lights. I want that all black Range Rover with the custom black and pink interior. I want that job where I am known world wide for doing what I do best...writing. I want that husband that is so fine that every woman wants him, but he loves me so much that he doesn't give a damn about them. I want my children to be so beautiful, smart, and full of ambition so that they can outdo me at my prime. I want to give to people all that was never given to me. I want to give back what has been given to me. I want to be apart of something so much greater than myself. I dream of these things. I crave these things. I will have these things. With each day that I have, I spend it working towards reaching those dreams and making them become realities. I make sure that I give when I can, not because of karma, but because just my little contribution could start the process of another person's dream becoming a reality. I dream, know, and believe that God has my back...even when it seems that my dreams are being put on hold.
Lastly,
I write...
I write because it is the only way that I truly know how to express myself. I am a journalism major because I want a career where I will be able to exercise my passion everyday until I die. When words fail me because of that lump in the back of my throat that indicates that I am about to cry, I write. When words fail me because I am too happy to even stop smiling about my blessings, I write. When I am downright lost for words, I write whatever synonyms I feel best relates to my emotions. This post itself may seem like a mere rant about me and my feelings...but to anyone that knows me, this is a major step for me. I do not express myself very well. I keep everything balled in or get frustrated when no one gets me when I do try to explain myself. Writing is a part of me. It is an emotion. How am I feeling today? I'm feeling like a writer. How did that make me feel? It made me feel like I need to write. Am I going to be okay? I am going to be alwrite (get it?)
Taking time to reflect upon yourself is healthy and important. Try it.
Tiana
