What Beauty Have I?

I saw an old man today, headed to listen to a concert. He stopped me and asked if I were going with him, which I found peculiar. He then attempted to persuade me to join him, at one point asking where my beauty came from. Confused and freezing, I replied "I don't know." He looked at me and said, "You don't have any beauty in your life, then?" I was shocked by the statement. And though I joke with my friends about the loony old man, the straightforwardness of his statement has me thinking. What about my life is so beautiful? I certainly wish the old man hadn't caught me so off guard, because I do have beauty in my life--and a lot, at that. I get my beauty from the snowflakes, falling to the ground. The stars that light the sky at night, the clouds that shades the world to my eyes. The friends that surround me with love and care, the aspirations that fill the void in my life and how to get there. The number of breaths I take, the tears that stream down my face, the smiles that light the room, the laughter that spreads so soon. The days that I've tread, the numbers passing in my head, the songs that I've sung, each meaning more than the last one.

You see, old man, you find beauty in the symphony, the arts and the extravagance. I, on the other hand, find the beauty in my every day, the way I live and the things that I encounter throughout my lifetime. I wish more than anything that I could have shared this with you, old man. I would have liked to see what you thought about the youth you're so concerned about. I understand that you lumped me with every other young, immature, uneducated child. I could tell in the way you spoke that you believed me to be nothing more than another individual in a lost generation. I don't appreciate how quickly you judged, old man. What I do appreciate, however, is the reminder you gave me. You see, old man, you reminded me what misconceptions still remain in this world. Even in a college, there are still stereotypes. And you see, old man, I appreciate your attempt to reach out to me. Though your fashion was peculiar, and certainly caught me off guard, it reminded me that I have to prove myself to the world before they'll take a look at me for who I am.

Those who know me, know me. They see that I have the intellect of an adult with the attitude of a child. But I have to prove myself to be the person I know I am to everyone else. I have to show that I can be responsible and young-hearted at the same time. And I will never fully escape society's standards, because to have any impact in society--I must first be accepted. All of this has come from a brief conversation with an old man who wanted me to join him for Handel's Messiah. Thank you, sir.

A Rock and a Hard Place.

You hurt me, and you know it. You made me cry, you're the reason I can't sleep at night, you're the thoughts in my mind, and the tears in my eyes. You've taught me so much that I should do, so much I shouldn't. You've taught me what hell is, and that I can overcome it. You've forced me to adapt, to change, to mature in so many ways. We've come so far from where we were, and yet the progress is so unsure. I feel like we're going nowhere in our attempts, trying so hard but failing so quick. I want more than anything a sense of certainty, some fraction of security, a relationship beneficial to me. And I just don't know where I'm supposed to go, I'm trying so hard to let it all go. Every time I see you, there it is. Every time I'm with you, it exists. As two halves to a whole, opposites in every fashion. It's like night and day, and yet there are similarities in a way. One tries, the other not. One hurts, the other is sought. But where does this leave me, when both return to previously? The ache in my heart is tearing me apart. The void in my life is causing such strife. I've done my part and raised the flag, you adjusted your route but then fell back in. And I've never grown past a little kid, fact of it is I doubt any of us really did. You tore my world apart, and I'm trying to make a new start. The changes you made impacted like a grenade. Just when I think I'm gaining some stability, you find a way to knock my feet out from under me. And I'm wondering if I'm left to constant disappointment, and if this cycle is how the rest of my life will be spent. There isn't a soul that knows all you've put me through, and there's no individual that can tell me what to do. I find that I'm living so cautiously, because you still have such control over me. And I wonder just how much I can take, before I finally allow myself to break. You shake me to the very core, and the pain hurts so much more. I can mask it well enough, I can even hide it from myself. And there are times when I close my eyes, I finally give myself some time to realize. You're always there at the back of my mind, though I try so hard to make myself blind. It scares me most when I'm thinking sincerely, and I come to see that you might have ruined me. I fear most what kind of impact you've had, the constant upkeep driving me mad. You stole so much from me, that I'd worked to get substantially. And every moment of my life before your action remains so valuable and easily left in subtraction. And the pain is unending as you drag out the beginning, torture so intense--I can't handle this. If you yourself had even realized all that I'd seen, would you have acted differently--knowing where I'd been? I am constantly stuck in a reminder of all the harm you've caused, and every time you're around I feel the sting of what I've lost. I was a fool to think you cared for me, you'd love me eternally. But what was I supposed to know, you were the first to love me so. All the memories rank so high, and when I think back I just can't understand why. And I wish you could see that you still haunt me, your actions are still so real to me. You're the ghost in my horror film, the nightmare in my deep sleep, and it kills that you're such a part of me. Your actions are so deeply rooted to the problems I hold, none even see that I'm still a pawn in your attempts to win gold. I feel like we're faking ourselves entirely, but I'm not so sure you're as clued-in as me. We're trying to force something that you've already broken, and we find our ways through the same paths again. You keep on living, you don't bat an eye, all I can do is sit here and cry. What kind of relationship do we have here, when neither of us benefits and everything is so queer? I want you to be a part of my living, through all the advice I've been giving. I have a world in front of me, and you're holding me from destiny. I just wish more than anything that I could loosen the stakes you've forced into my heart, find a way to forget the past and make a new start.

But right now, things are how they are. We can't be happy until we have closure. You refuse to give me what I need. So we're stuck in this cycle of insanity. And it's wearing on me so much more than you can see. I only hope that I can handle what more you've got in store, because at the current time I'm overwhelmed with the bombshells you've got developed. It won't take a lot to push me farther than I'd like to go, and I'd like to believe that I'll end the relationship between us before I do myself any real damage--only time will tell.