Eleven twenty of the third of three; Thank you for being alive

I’m not saying you’re wrong. But I’m also sure I’m not how you said I am until I die.

I’ve been with a bunch of people and will be meeting more along the way. It’s both exciting and scary, knowing they’re all different, and, knowing you wont get to get along with every one of them even when you best try to.

It must be by the way I carry myself. How I tuck my hair at the back of my ear when I feel uncomfortable, or when I hide my face with my short hair when I want to disappear. Or how I unconsciously bend my back into a c-curve when I’m panicking. Or how I stutter on words I’ve long rehearsed for because I was never, and will never be a fan of being in front of a crowd.

But I am not going to cry for myself. I am not carrying any grudge on anybody. I am simply thanking each and everyone, with the hope that all the words they say, will make a whole instead of broken pieces.

Thank you for disregarding my ideas, comments, and suggestions. I wouldn’t know the value of speaking up for myself if it weren’t for you. I wouldn’t know that people, even those you consider as your mentor or support, can’t always back you up or speak on behalf of you.

Thank you for telling me I’m not enough. I wouldn’t be appreciating every bit of myself this much if I ever felt that I’m more than what I am. I wouldn’t notice the areas I need to improve on, or lessen- when needed.

Thank you for questioning my worth. Have I told you how low you’ve thought of me more than how I used to see myself? It made me realize I don’t have to base it on anyone’s definition of ‘worthy’. I am a set of waves no one will ever be able to cage, you see? I am my own ocean.

Thank you for considering my dreams as invalid, or the way I see things as nonsense. This taught me that we, all of us, have different dreams waiting to be made true. Can you imagine all of it coming to life? I’m telling you, it’ll be grand. I just know.

Thank you, thank you for not saying the exact words, but implying that I was weak. If it weren’t for it, I wouldn’t have braved the world to try and be strong until I made it.

Thank you for not believing in me. Because it made me question myself, too.

I wouldn’t have been depressed about being nothing. About being alive. About being myself.

Because then, I wouldn’t have reached the point of talking myself into anything.

Each day, felt like sharp nails pushing me to the wall for not living and settling on just existing.

Every night, feeling disgusted with myself for not even knowing at least one new thing. I mean, how did I take having my brain rot inside my head?

How can I take missing out on all the details, parts, the reason why things work the way they do and not how I imagine them to?

How can I take just dreaming about the things I want to be able to see, touch, hear, feel. How can I take having nothing to feel?

But I’m done with questioning and feeling sorry for myself. I’m done trying to live for anyone and forgetting myself. I’m done taking this as an act of selfishness because I am only just starting to love myself.

This time, I’m putting myself first. This time, I am thanking myself for standing up. This time, I’m done giving up. This time, I’m done.

So I end this with high hopes.

That every discouraging word you tell someone else, will only lead them where they should go.

That every pain you’ve caused, will only turn those wounds into something stronger. Something bigger.

That falling, crawling, over and over again, will only make them feel best for always trying.

and I hope, that you find it in you, to be more than you are now. And I will be the first to thank you, for being alive.

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