Written for me by my bestest friend/worst enemy and too ood not to share. Thanks Bryana. Dear Friend Sometimes it may seem like you are a piece of hay in a world of needles, too soft, and everything hurts. So you paint your skin gray and harden each grain until you are convinced that no one will be able to tell the difference. The needles still hurt, because beneath that exterior there is still a golden strand, something that you have buried. This is what I see, the softest part of you. It is not a weakness. You are not weak. Now, stating all of this, I can only assume, makes you slightly uncomfortable. You are not expressive, and sometimes your shell is a comfort, something that blocks the things that make you uncomfortable. You have known this shell for so long, it is one of the only things that has never left you. Just know that I see it, and think that it is lovely. And know this, dear friend, that when I hear the word courage, it is not masculine bear-wrestlers or Hercules that I picture. I see a young woman who loves skirts and rifles, a brilliant mind that indulges in spoken word, and a kind heart that uses words to convey messages...of kindness...of hope...of love. When I think strength, I do not think of unbending iron. I think of your honesty; your mask; your pain.You are honest with everyone, never backing away from a hard situation unless there is a greater cause that demands silence, a silence that hurts because it is wrong to you, because some thoughts should be spoken. Your mask is hard won. You have built it as you built your walls, superglueing the edges until they are seamless. It took me years to recognize the mask and see who was hiding beneath. Sometimes, you still manage to fool me. But your pain is strength too. You stand tall and open, letting people think of you as they will because you will not compromise. But there is a breaking point for everyone, and though yours has been pulled beyond the bounds of many because of the past that you are learning to accept, that point still exists. It comes when no one is watching, in stolen places away from the world. You do not want people to see. I understand. Your trust is hard won because of the betrayals that you have hiding in your shadows, and it is the “I” that hurts you so bad. Do not feel like you have to run away from the world before your soft and scarred grain breaks the surface of your painted shell. But if you must, know that there are pincushions who will help carry the weight of those needles if you let them. This pain that you carry is your own, it is true, but it does not have to rest sorely on your shoulders. There are those that will try and help take that weight away. Dear friend, do not think yourself weak. You are everything but that word; compassionate, kind, thoughtful, meek. You embody only what qualities you wish to. You do not compromise morals for a spot at the popular table. It is not in your nature. You are built of the strongest edges and the softest curves, of late nights and later mornings, of “As you wish” and “May the force be with you”. You are composed of quirky lines and quick laughter, of generous smiles and hot anger, of Oreos and Mt. Dew. You paint your pictures and write your poems with beliefs and baking and fried-food and warm sweats. You are county and rock-and-roll, jeans and skirts, hiking boots and bare-feet, sassy one-liners and Bible verses. You are humor and laughter and trust and beauty and wisdom, and I am pleased to say this: I am lucky to call you “dear friend.”
Posted on: Mon, 07 Oct 2013 03:08:19 +0000
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