I wonder if it’s possible to ”unlearn” everything? Erase myself without any smudges or crinkles, just a blank smooth surface. Next time I’ll choose to be brave, I’ll be the kid jumping off swings in the dark. You won’t recognize me. I’ll say "no" without hesitation, my voice confident and strong. A leader instead of a follower, certain that I belong. I deserve this. I’ll excel at sports and games, I’ll be masculine and tough without even trying. A real guy’s guy. Broad shouldered and handsome, someone you can be proud of. Next time I’ll choose to be straight. I’ll be the perfect cookie cutter son. We won’t know any different.

8 comments:
You can be whatever you want to be, but it sure as hell won't be easy. The thing is, you don't have to make a choice about who you are, you just have to make a choice to live as yourself everyday and know that you're probably doing the right thing. I say probably because I am no expert. I think 'what am I even doing here' everyday. I so wish I could get in a DeLorean and redo my youth, but I also wish upon a star each and everyday that I can be happy as I am now at this very moment. No one can interfere with that. It's just me, a star, and my potential happiness. Okay, sometimes clouds make it hard, but I always know the star is there receiving my wish. And if the star fails me, there's a big support group called society that despite its apathetic tendencies really wants us to succeed and, well, be happy.
Gosh, nice writing, Charlie! As always.
I love the start of this, with erase and ending with "we won't know any different." There's so much poignancy. Of all that you would "choose"--to be the cookie cutter son, like jumping off swings in the dark(I love that)-- for the "you" but then "we" wouldn't know the difference. Thanks for the glimpse of you that would be missed.
Go for it Charlie!
Not to undo who you are, but to make the decisions that mean you are who you should be.
It's nice to dream about what might have been, occasionally. But ultimately I'm glad I know different, I'm proud of my smudges and crinkles. They are what make me.
For that gives us the chance to see things how they really are, and to understand. From there springs compassion for everyone else who, like us, misses out on the dream. That's our privilege.
Guy's guys are SO overrated.
It's such a terrible thing to say to people, because it feels utterly unhelpful, but I have to say that as I have gotten older, I have become less able to imagine myself as any other kind of person. Of course there are things I would change about my life - but mySELF? other than being effortlessly thin and gracefully athletic, I wouldn't make any changes.
I may have said this before, but it's worth repeating because not enough people say it: the best thing about high school is that it ends, and you NEVER HAVE TO DO IT AGAIN. I am grateful most days of my life that I do not have to do that phase of being, ever again. It was awful and lonely and uncomfortable and it is so totally over.
The best thing you can do for yourself is live the way you want to, to the best of your ability, and in a way that will - someday - allow you to review your life and say: "I don't really regret any of it."
and as my old friend Mister Rogers says: There's no one else just like you in the whole world, and I like you just exactly the way you are.
You say things so poetically, Charlie. Your writing is always beautiful, even when it's full of pain. I'd tell you that it's okay to be you, but you already know that, you just don't believe it yet.
Your writing is amazing...it pulls me in right away. As a dancer up until college (I was a dance minor), I can identify to a lot of your feelings. Dance is such a paradox, both a beautiful art and one full of possible destruction for what it does to your body and mind.
Thank you :) Rachele, that's so cool you used to be a dancer. What kind of dance? I completely agree, it's the most beautiful thing I've ever experienced, but for someone with an eating disorder it's not the most healthy environment. It's very complex.
Post a Comment