I. Write. To. Breathe

I

She had only written to herself, mostly in times of despair unfortunately. She wrote to calm herself not thinking that anyone would harness the pain she did. Writing became her way of breathing, and the only way she knew how to breathe. Without it, she would slowly concave into herself. Being herself was a waste of space, though she learned that she was more. she was so unsure of how she felt about where she was. She sought approval from her parents for the longest of times. She craved for their accolades, yet all she received was something else that needed to be achieved. There were times where she thought the best place for her to rest her mind was when she closed her eyes, instead all her thoughts came to haunt her. So instead she would grab her black power beats, connect them to Bluetooth, and used the music to lull her to sleep.

When she woke, she still could not distinguish her thoughts from one another. She would sit in turmoil, and debate if letting her mind race with endless thoughts was better than

seeing her heart displayed on a white sheet. A blank canvas was that her heart could paint the canvas with its words. Many times, she had wondered if she could simply sing her sorrows away, but they would still come back to her. Like a moth that gravitates towards a flame. Yet, she knew she could not sit idle in the sea of thoughts that she was drowning in. So, she decided to start writing. Though she was unwilling, she would rather be able to see her thoughts than be stuck in them.

Write

There are times where her mind could not fathom the world that surrounds it. So, it simply ignores its purest form of fear, by not acknowledging its own. Being raised as a Christian did not seem ideal to her during her pre-pubescent years, merely for the fact that she was too young to understand what was going on around her.

She thought to be a Christian meant to be perfect, to know the Bible forwards and backwards. She did not know how one could believe in someone of higher power that was invisible to the eye. How did people communicate knowing they would not hear back from this God they talked about? She knew that her family had believed in him, at least she was told they called it ‘Him’. She did not know why, but she went along with it. So, she tried to communicate with Him, though it felt like she was talking to herself. She did not understand how her family could talk to God, yet oddly she felt at peace talking to this invisible deity. Though when she talked it felt as though she would always forget something. Other times she could not comprehend what she wanted to talk to God about, so she started to write poetry hoping that it would tell God how she truly felt.

TO

Being a Christian taught her to be like Jesus, and walk the path he paved for her, to her best ability. she learned about herself through him, though what she saw was both good and bad, she thanked Jesus for the way she was. The best way she communicated with him, even when she was not in constant thought, was through her writing. Even when she was in elementary school, she would write short choppy sentences that her six year old mind could conjure.

It did not occur to her that she would continue writing after her amateur years. Though she was grateful for the growth, and the ability to communicate her thoughts. She struggled with writing how she felt! Which became frustrating that she could not find the right words to use to describe how she felt. Most people who love to write, know that having the perfect word that fits the sentence and completes their thoughts makes the sentence all the better. Sometimes she felt as though part of being a Christian was enduring the struggle. Now whether the hardship was big, or small, made no difference if she could not overcome it. When she could not grapple with the reason for her struggle, she knew that the only way to grow was to endure it, but not by herself.

BREATHE

She learned through her writing that there will always be mistakes that she did not notice. Same thing in life, some mistakes that she wanted to fix could only be fixed by her creator. She did not understand why she could not be made perfect, or why she endured the pain she did. She only knew that without God, her creator, she would not be able to breathe her existence into her writing the same way he breathed life into her. Though she was getting to know God, she was getting to know him just like she was learning how to write and communicate with him. Of course, she was not perfect, and neither was her writing, but through Him, she was molded to perfection. Her writing was made in her image, as she was made in His image. Both were perfect in God’s eyes, mistakes, and all.

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