Wednesday, April 16, 2014

Flinch

Two quotes I've come across recently have really made me take a second look at myself. One of them I found on the internet: "It's not who you are that holds you back, it's who you think you're not". The other was said to me by a friend: "Carrie, you're not the person you think you are." And then she proceeded to back it up with proof.

Something that came up recently made me realize that I may be living my life under the notion that I don't deserve to have beautiful things in my life. And by things, I don't mean objects, possessions.

Everybody has a certain amount of darkness in them. I don't think there's a single person out there who can look inside themselves-their heart, mind, soul, whatever- and not find some ugliness.

Like it or not, we're all formed by our experiences and our past. As far as we come away from all that, as far as we may rise above it, we always carry some piece of it along with us.

I've had my fair share of ugliness in my life and situations that have certainly left a permanent stain, and in some instances, scars. Other people may not see it, but I can see my own ugliness. I think we all can.

"We each need to make peace with our own memories. We have all done things that make us flinch." -Surya Das.

So why would I ruin a beautiful person by allowing them into my life? What if that beauty becomes smudged because they witness some of my ugliness? What if they are crushed by the weight of my burdens?

I believe the answer I've been giving myself is simply that you just don't. Instead you allow people into your life who treat you less than beautifully. Because then you won't have to worry about ruining them with your darkness.

Even the most beautiful people are made up of a portion of ugliness. I think the important thing is to try to treat people as beautifully as possible and remember that we are all fragile and have a point at which we will break.We are as deserving as how well we treat others- not the beauty or ugliness of the substance we are made of.

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