Reality

*Note: I grew up from the concept of reality. (not part of the poem, just a note)

The idea of reality is a weird concept. Everyone has a different reality. 

One is born, goes to school, then picks a career, and finally you die.

That’s it. That’s what everyone’s story is based on.

 But some add to the story. Some get married or don’t. Some have kids. Some kill themselves.  

Yeah...that’s reality. Good things and bad things happen all the time whether we are aware of it. 

This isn’t like the movies where it cuts to scenes and characters.

 The script is not already written so who knows who gets the happy ending?

The camera is always on you, the star of your own story. 

 You feel like you are playing a part and still trying to figure it out. 

 You go through the steps of being this character, understanding what it likes and doesn’t like.

You have to decide what the character wants to do with its life and how it’s going to act. 

But what if one day you wake up and you don’t want to play the character anymore? 

You either get help from the director wandering in your mind, or you don’t.

 Sometimes the director doesn’t help at all, so then it could be life or death.

We want to live in our own realities, our own take on the world; our story.

We cannot do that if we are decaying six feet under in a casket.

No one wants to be forced into things whether it’s a career, religion, or the expectations of  society. 

We don’t want to be deserted with a reality that “someone or something” created for us. 

Decisions and the people we are around reflect on the reality we have.

Reality is not all girls in pretty dresses and all the boys playing sports. 

Reality is not all girls liking boys and boys liking girls; why is straight the default? 

Reality is not everyone growing up to have a family, some are married to their career. 

Reality is not perfect, newborns die without answers or spouses die at unexpected times.

Reality is not where everything is sunshine and rainbows, there is always cloudy storms. 

Reality can be working hard yet failing the first couple hundred times. 

Reality can be thinking deeply or reevaluating your whole life to understand something.

 Reality can be staring mind numbingly at the world around you because it has so much beauty.

Reality is dishes piling up in the sink, clothes on the floor, and stains on the carpet.

Reality is people trying to be themselves, letting ourselves become interesting humans. 

Reality is we are all damaged in a way where it is a part of our story.