Take my hand and drag me head first. Fearless. Taylor Swift, “Fearless”
They don’t always end up the way you want them to. And they don’t always start off the way you were told they should. But they happen anyway. Good or bad. Right or wrong. There is only but so much one has control over. Something one certainly has control over is whether you have won or lost. For in my most bloody battles, I still emerge a champion. When the warrior returns to his village after having confronted the lion, his people do not pity him. So why would you dare pity me? The lion came into my home. And I made it out alive. You should celebrate me. Every so often the devil will make it’s way into your world. In this brief moment of altered reality, you must choose. You must decide which path to follow. You must prove that you know the difference between right and wrong. Between happy and sad. Between loved and abused.
If I am anything, I am a living martyr. I am Job. I have suffered so much and endured, still. I have won every battle. Every war. I have seen the blood, for I know what it is to kill. I love this shit. This world has turned me into a monster. I am ready for the next challenge. I look forward to my next opponent like i do my next meal. It better be good. If im going to pay for this, it better be worth it. All of you. Buddah, Allah, whoever. Give me what you’ve got. I’m as strong as you, if not stronger. Any force that aims to plague me is my foe. You have become my foe. In the same right, i understand that you are my teachers. But you must understand recognition fuels me. Test me. I’ve failed before and I don’t like how it feels. I won’t do it again.
I’m a firm believer in free will. I’m also completely convinced that life is predestined. You decide how your life will end up. Although the crossroads we come upon are invisible, if you pay attention, they are difficult to ignore. You know the choice you should make. You know right from wrong. But, sometimes, you choose wrong in hopes that it’ll be the last of it. Perhaps a little wrong will lead to a lot of good. Or maybe a bit of wrong now will help you avoid more wrong later. I can’t say I’ve always made the right decisions, but I’ve never made the wrong ones. There are some instances in which we lie to ourselves. We force ourselves. Sadly, most of this is surrounding love. We tell ourselves that things can’t be perfect. We allow unhappiness figuring the trade off will be good… I’m simply unsure of how much unhappiness turns into happiness. You can deal, yes. You can make it through, of course. But happiness if not a guarantee unless you plot the points to getting there and stay on track. It’s so easy to fall off course and for that reason, I am willing to scarify myself. I give myself to the game to make the hard decisions you think you can’t. I will show you how so that in your weakest moments, if you think What would Ella do? you won’t be lead down a path I’ve never taken. This is real life. True shit.
I’m unsure of and fully convinced in my personal beliefs. I don’t know if there is a God. Whatever God thought what I needed was to suffer is not my friend. He may be my teacher. He might have forced me to learn lesson I couldn’t have learned elsewhere, but that is not my friend. There are other Gods for that. I’m sure Buddah had a more gentle form of teaching I prefer. I believe there is a force behind me. I believe that perhaps there is a reason for it all. All the tears. All the pain. All the blood. All the things I’ve conveniently forgotten and purposefully maintained. I believe that that reason is you. Maybe I’m meant to suffer so that people will understand. So that people will know the real-life troubles a girl like me goes through to become a woman. There are far too many decisions to make. Far too much pain to hold in. But here I am. And I have not yet fallen. That means that you need not fall either.
If God were to live anywhere, it’d be New York City.
On every other corner, or in every other railway car, someone is trying to convince you of something (all for whatever you might have in your pocket at the time) and these have become the places I worship. I haven’t been to church since before Easter and I feel little remorse. I worship out here, in the world, with my people. When I sit in my subway car and look at those around me, I think of all the stories untold. All the shit we’ve gone through as well as what is to come. WIt is so much, man.
So fuckin much it becomes unbearable for some. God didn’t know what he was doing when he made people strong enough to take their own lives. You see, our lives are in our hands, we can end it at anytime. Me? I’ve decided that I’ll die when I’m good and ready. The world has already shown me it wants my life. I now understand how precious it and I won’t let it be taken from me. If you so chose, this could be your very last breath. But that decision is yours
–along with continuing
to breathe. It seems that we sometimes stop at that last challenge without realizing there are more levels to pass. You also decide how
to live your life. Happy? Sad? Successful? Struggling? You can’t avoid the negative completely, but you can decide, while you know how it feels, if you want to be like that again. Don’t like what it feels like to be broke? Get a job. Don’t like people giving you orders? Work your way to the top. Perhaps I’m over-simplifying, or perhaps we make shit a lot more difficult than it needs to be.
I hated God for a very long time. I couldn’t (and still cannot) understand blind worship. I had too many questions for him. I couldn’t grasp how He’s the only thing everyone claims to be afraid. You “swear to God” to prove yourself, as if He is ultimate truth –and if you believe, than this is justified. But if you don’t believe that he is ultimate truth, then “swear to God” holds no value. Which makes most of the things I’ve ever been told absolute bullshit. The only thing I disliked more than God, himself, were his people. I’ve asked the Christian God questions along the lines of… You gave them 10 rules. You murdered someone in front of them in your name. They would go on to murder millions in you name for centuries after. They still do. You gave them their own gods just so that they could be good people. Instead, they turned against one another. Were you just waiting on someone to notice that we’re all the same. That color is the most beautiful thing in the world. If you’ve ever flipped through a Pantone book, you understand how color means everything to some people and nothing to others. Infinitely influential on some wavelengths and inexistent on others. When will they realize that we should love one another? Correctly? And where do you justify love for self? What is it about this mystic being that can cause one to love and hate all in one swift motion?
I’m also simply not okay with the fear. I don’t want to fear my God. Not one of them. I want to feel like he is my companion and nothing else. I don’t want to nor need to be challenged. Not anymore, at least. Perhaps the Christian God, with the extensive list of similarities he shares with his foe Lucifer, is only one of the figures who matter in the grand scheme of things. Or perhaps I’ve chosen the best team –all of them. No matter your religion, you can take lesson for all those established across the globe. The dedication of the Muslims, the pride of the Christians, the pacifism of the Buddhist. The list extends to religions I don’t fully understand and haven’t yet discovered, but one thing I can say –which I’ve alway believed and had reinforced by the great Aristotle, is that the greatest religion of them all is Love. Love is love is love is love. Isn’t it? No matter the language, or color, or year founded. I can’t do without it. I can’t manage. We die for it. We search for it all our lives. We’ll do anything to feel it. To have felt it. But sometimes, for that one small sample of love… we give far too much. It doesn’t even out. That little bit of love isn’t worth it –especially not when you can love yourself more.
We search for love in the wrong places.
Instead of searching for it within ourselves, we yearn for people to love us. We believe that muttering those three scared words in the middle of a sweaty affair will bring them to life, when it really will only last as long as the sex does. We cross our fingers and hope to the Gods it’ll be decent. We wait in the dark, hoping for satisfaction and sometimes… if you pay attention, you can’t even feel anything.
You swoon and moan over this man and the actions you have blown out of proportion (to make him
feel good), but if you take the time to open your eyes and listen
, you’ll realize… he aint even all that.
Sound familiar? I’ve come to that point too many time for my liking. (Once should be too many times for any of us.) The body is a beautiful thing. It’s easy to get lost in it. There are people who love you for nothing more than what you look like and little more than what you do for them. There are very few who love you solely for you and the simple fact that you exist –which is how we should love one another. We should be grateful for the other person’s existence and wish they enjoy it to it’s fullest. But, be careful. That little lady that resides between your thighs — she’ll control you just like she controls them. Unfortunately, man is fueled by invisible forces we’re forced to combat. You may choose the weapon of your choice. Let the games begin.