She put some of her perfume on me and she smiled, you are way beyond your years dear she said. When a few hours back i was described as one of the best things anyone could call you: genuine.
Genuine, telling the truth and meaning it with no false pretences. This has become rare apparently.
Maybe between all the sorrow, disappointment, pain and double standards lay reality. Reality will shred us apart and drain us into either depressed intellectuals or shallow idiots.
Whichever side you end up in is a result of a harsh truth. Nothing lasts, not even you.
We long for some certainty. We seek it even in our darkest hours. The certainty tames us and is reason for us to deal with life on some condition that we will be payed back.
But experience and thoughtfulness kill certainty and breed its opposite.
There we feel the chill, the coldness of reality and sheer humanity. We want to hold on to anything whether emotion, a person, an idea or a state of mind. We seek to define ourselves through them.
The fragility of being human wrecks us because we sheild it with pride. We sheild with so many facades until we lose touch completely.
Until someone or something comes along and tells you to release yourself. There you find those sheilds falling to the ground, you start feeling your fragility again and it terrifies you.
To realize that it is okay to be a fragile human, to need and long for value, to find yourself in the midst of horror standing your ground and owning up to your nature, to split yourself from all others and realize your value to yourself and to others; to absolutely rid yourself of the weight of the world and reality is what they dont teach us in schools, and what our parents failed to show us.
So maybe in a small corner in your soul hides an innocence maybe a belief or a truth. Find that and create.
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Uplifting Letters 