How To: Confidence

“Is it foolish to speak of little joys that occur in the middle of tragedy? It is our humanity. Whatever we have left of it. We must not deny it to ourselves.”

— Ilya Kaminsky, from Still Dancing: An Interview With Ilya Kaminsky by Garth Greenwell

because you were only 5 when you learnt the dark was something you should be afraid of and that night, a child found god in the bathroom light

when you turned 11, someone said you were too loud, too brash, too annoying for a girl; they made you think you’d never make it in this world

then came your 13th birthday when you realised that your mother would only love the person you could become for her, so you made yourself smaller and smaller until you ceased to exist outside of your own mind, screaming “are you happy now, mother?” but no voice comes out because you can’t be too loud, remember?

at 15, you hated yourself for not being able to fight without crying (you still do) so you don’t let anyone in that can hurt you

and now that you’re 17, you’ve waited for summer long enough to know it will never arrive for a person who says so little of what she means.

// you’ve been 8, on your way to 18, and barely survived the years in between

“Vive vitam tuam, nam morte tua morieris.”

Live your own life, for you will die your own death.

The feminine urge to mess up your whole sleep cycle to read books.

She grows up feeling wrong, out of place, too dark, too tall, too unruly, too opinionated, too silent, too strange. She grows up with the awareness that she is merely tolerated, an irritant, useless, that she does not deserve love, that she will need to change herself substantially, crush herself down if she is to be married

Hamnet - Maggie O’Farrell

Cambridge, Nov 4 2017

To learn that

one who speaks of

such that is different from their actions

is an idiot,

to entertain the notion

of facing you.

Why?

Who are you?

"To define is to limit," you say,

a smirk dancing on your lips.

It is because you know who you are, that you need someone to find out who that is.

For that is what it is

to be worthy of you.

Alexander woke early; he had left the window open, and fragrant pear blossoms were now floating in and depositing themselves on his face and chest. He thought of yesterday evening and smiled, picking up the little, white flowers one by one and dropping them onto the floor of his room. He stood up and dressed quickly. He picked up his bookbag and nearly ran out the door, but stopped to fuss over his hair, blowing in the spring breeze that came in from the half-open window. He gave up and went down the stairs, skipping every other step. With his bag carelessly flung over his shoulder, he started walking towards the South Meadow, breathing in the sweet air. He hadn’t realised how he felt towards Theo, not now, not yet. All he did was smile and look at the clouds running their slow race across the sky. Before he knew it, Theo fell into step beside him. He kept smiling.

“Good morning, Alexander.” Hearing his name on Theo’s lips awoke him from his reverie.

“Morning,” he said, suppressing his smile so that only the left corner of his mouth turned upwards.

They walked in silence for a bit, passing the few boys that were awake at this early hour. Alexander noticed the way Theo’s curls fell onto his forehead, the way his eyebrows scrunched up and his lips parted slightly when he seemed to be thinking about something, the way he examined Alexander’s face when he thought he couldn't tell. Their eyes met more than once, sweet moments of horror intertwined with whatever that feeling you get when you smile like an idiot is called.

They sat down at a bench near the meadow, and Alexander opened his book. Theo, however, pulled out a sketchbook and started drawing something that Alexander couldn’t see. Before he knew it, the noise built up, and Alexander opened his phone to check the time. They ran to assembly together, laughing the whole way. Everything felt fuzzy for that entire day. They smiled at each other in English, and Alexander noticed how often they agreed on arguments. He also noticed how Theo looked so deeply at the words on the pages of whatever piece of literature they were examining, as if he were trying to piece together a puzzle without all of the pieces. He always looked for a deeper meaning behind every word so quickly, looking for some sort of wonder where Alexander didn’t think to search.

Elegance, for me, is the manifestation of sophistication and tranquility of the soul, knowing how to beautify your life inside and out—to emanate grace, love, compassion, and wisdom that will touch those that surround you.

— Frances Q. (Musing Diary of a Delicate Petal)