main character

we assume we’re the main characters of our own stories.

we are, after all, the centre of everything we experience. and everyone has a story.

we don’t know it any other way.

but then something happens that makes us wonder

if we’re like nick carraway,

the sidekick in someone else’s fairytale.

what are we, really?

some poetry

 

eighteen

ages are funny things. to think that

you’ve existed for longer than someone

and shorter than someone else—

isn’t that strange?

and some of them have meanings.

you, for instance. you’re eighteen. what does that mean?

nothing. everything.

a child in someone’s mind and a grown-up in someone else’s.

you “turn eighteen” (what does that even mean? it’s like it’s the turn of a century)

and you become the same but different.

you’re a man now, child,

in the eyes of the world. you’re not a “minor” anymore. you’re a “major”.

a full-fledged human. congratulations, you actually exist now.

but what you did before, isn’t that important too?

ages are funny things. some people say they matter, but do they?

you don’t seem so different to me.

headache

thud.

thud.

thud.

there’s a small creature inside my head

it’s knocking at my skull with its teeth.

thud.

go away, small creature, you’re hurting me

i can’t possibly do anything

with you inside my head.

thud.

thud.

shut up, small creature, nobody cares about you.

thud.

“leave me my name.” - john proctor, the crucible

fool.

you want my name?

i have given you my soul.

sure, you can have my name,

once you’ve pried it from my cold, dead hands.

i have given you my soul. leave me my name.

violin

 practicing is so tedious. practice the shift until you get it and then practice it some more. you’re not done

until it’s perfect, but it’s so worth it. isn’t it? the moment you get on stage and see 

the lights dim and hear the sounds beginning, it’s worth it. the moment you hear “well

done” from the person who matters the most, it’s worth it. the moment 

you feel the tears running down your cheeks because of how beautiful

the music is, it’s worth it. this thing you love,

it is hard, but you do it anyway 

because you love it. you couldn’t

imagine living without it.

thank you,

God.

trials of various kinds

“count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. and let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.” - james 1:2-4

    would that this were easier! it’s so hard to keep going sometimes. and i tell myself, hey, it’s gonna be okay, because i know it will be. eventually, it will be. but right now doesn’t feel okay. right now feels like God help me i’m struggling help help help—

    and i just remember sitting in a treehouse not so long ago, reading about frodo and sam and the trials they faced. and sometimes i wish i had their courage. 

    to endure.

    to keep going.

    because why would you stop whilst you’re in the fire? keep going. God’s always with you.

    (it’s gonna be okay, i tell myself. it is going to be okay.)

the child i used to be

sometimes i miss 

the child i used to be. 

yes, i was alone

and yes, i was naïve, 

but i didn’t care.

i didn’t care

what others thought, 

what they thought of me 

or who i was. 

i just was.

i was innocent.

trusting.

pure in heart.

i miss her, that little girl

who saw the world

so clearly

but herself

saw not at all.