Feeling the Whole Picture

Fri, 03/06/2015 - 01:43 -- searrad

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Before I look into the mirror, I hesitate.

In that second, I try to shove down the self diminishing thoughts.

I gradually focus my eyes on the familiar body.

That is when the relentless scrutiny starts.

The person looking back at me squeezes the fat on my body.

She traces the stretch marks and plucks misplaced hairs.

Picking at the pimples bubbling up, she estimates when the pus filled blister will be ready to burst.

Glaring at fat fingers and stubby toes, she tries to see beauty in the filth before her.

Then she focuses on dark, but lovely eyes.

Some days the eyes show a heightened spark:

A passion and commitment to life.

Other days the eyes are glistening full of tears:

Drowning in sorrow.

She catches even the smallest changes day to day.

She sees me the way no one else can:

Through my own eyes.

 

Without the filter of my own eyes how would I look?

The person I show my lover in the bedroom,

The person I show my friends at the bar,

The person I show my family around the table.

Who would she be?

Without the filter of my own eyes, would I even exist?

I shape the world around me.

What I see.

The way I see it.

The way I think about it.

Fragments of myself culminated to form...

Me

 

Facts are like fragments.

They supply information, but communicate very little.

I can tell you a few facts, for there is an endless supply.

Born: Great Falls, Montana August 19th, 1991

Favorite Color: White

Favorite Food: Creamy Peanut Butter

Major: Psychology

Greatest Fear: Being Alone

Greatest Strength: Big Heart

 

Did that give you a clear picture?

Or do you want more?

I could tell you what I think is important.

But, I will probably leave stuff out that has faded over time.

 

Here’s cliff notes version:

I was born to a single mother because my biological father didn’t believe that I was his. At age 3, I was adopted by the man I call father. He is my foundation. I went to a private Catholic school for all of elementary school. I became an older sister. I have a younger sister and the youngest is my brother. My best friend was my cousin. She was three years older than me. I was baptized and became Mormon at age 8. I got into a rollover car accident, which temporarily put my sister into a wheelchair. Seventh grade I started failing classes believing that I was stupid.

Right around the time I hit puberty, I moved cities. I lost my friends and all of my extended family. I went to public school and realized I was intelligent. My mother was repeatedly hospitalized for a mental health disorder. I became mother hen to the household. My best friend decided not to be my friend. I had a teacher push me to graduate with honors. My sister ran away. I had crushes on ten boys at once. I felt ugly for not getting a date. I graduated high school. I went to college five hours from home. I had great friends until we grew apart. I fell in love, then he broke up with me. I became addicted to masturbation. I became involved on campus. I became president of Tactical Action Gaming. I tried to figure out what I wanted to do. I was depressed. I saw a counselor. I fell in love. We tried long distance. It was torture. I almost lost him by cheating on him. I learned about death when my cousin committed suicide. I graduated college. I moved to L.A. I work, I learn, I love and I am going back to school.

 

I know I forgot things.

There are just so many things.

Condensed version of my life.

So saturated more than 8,000 days fits in less than half a page.

Maybe you know me better.

But the fragments don't show you.

The fragments can't show you.

They can't show you the feelings of despair,

Love,

Joy,

Fear.

The fragments were lived by me.

 

My eyes saw my mother leave time and time again. Locked away in her room, unable to share my secrets. Worst of all I couldn't protect her. The deep scars on her arms proved that I was useless. Abandoned, I quietly begged for her to stay away because the back and forth was worse than missing her. In the darkness, where no one could see my failure, I wept, tempted with the thought of death. When the pale light entered my window, I dried my tears and pretended to be happy.

 

My heart broke when I buried my cousin in the ground. Years without a word and then she was gone. Her body lay stiff in a wooden frame. My sorrow was bottomless. I cried in public. There was no way to hide from the truth. I have failed another.

 

My lips feel the timid kiss of my lover. His warmth encircles my body. Resting calmly in each others arms, I confess everything. He is silent with no reply. Yet, he continues to lay with me. His grip tightens as I cry. When I break from him in fury, he comes to me with kind, patient eyes. Years he has told me. I never thought it was possible. He loves me.

 

My story makes me weep.

My story makes me smile.

Because I feel the whole picture.

 

My story only has two filters.

Time and self.

Without the time of pain and joy I would not exist.

Without the filter of my eyes I would not exist.

I would not be who I am without those two things.

I exist as I am.

 

I don't edit my story.

Over time you will see the way I see.

In time I will share my past with you.

With time I will share my life with you.

You will see me cry and laugh for I am not hidden.

Even my darkest thoughts can come to light.

So, find me as I am in time.

 
This poem is about: 
Me
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