QOTD 3

"When you meet an extraordinary person, it’s like they get inside you, under your ribs, and shuffle everything inside you around until they find space for greatness to grow. But extraordinary people always get away. And when they leave, they take that little part of you with them. Suddenly you find yourself with a gap in your chest that you don’t know how to live with. Suddenly you’re frightened of being yourself without them..." - Nick Ellsworth

How to Do Mostly Nothing for Twenty Years

"Comfortable misery." Oxymoron right? How is it possible to be comfortable (something most people want and strive for) yet miserable or uncomfortable (something most people try to avoid) at the same time?

"It is like old, comfortable shoes. They are not attractive, but you keep wearing them out of habit. If you bought new ones, you would have to break them in. What if they pinched? What if they hurt? What if you didn’t like them? Better to just stay with what you have. Why take a chance?"

Think about it. How many times have I been okay and familiar with surroundings or circumstances or people or habits but wasn't nearly happy about it or simply hated it? Worst part - because I was 'comfortable' with it, I was in no hurry to take the necessary steps to change something.

Why do I do this? Why do I insist on being comfortably miserable? Why am I okay with being unhappy in my own little bubble when I can enjoy life if I just step outside its walls? Why am I okay to surrender to my fears and doubts? Why do I choose to live in this cage? Why do you?

Misery loves company, yes? Who wants to be unhappy by themselves? It's much easier to be unhappy with other people who feel the same or circumstances that never change. I can be miserable and unhappy right where I am and hold on to these certain things that make me unhappy because I know they're not going anywhere anytime soon.. because I'm not about to do anything to change it. If I had to write a book about my life up to this point, my autobiography would be titled something like "How to Do Mostly Nothing for Twenty Years." A fairly accurate title unfortunately. What would the title of your autobiography be?

The few times I have been willing to burst my own bubble and step out of my comfort zone has been so worth it, every single time. I took a huge step out of my comfort-zone this summer and absolutely loved it. This fear of change, of something different and unknown (especially for us reserved, less-adventures types) holds us back and ties us down. Unhappy enough to want change, but not enough discomfort to do anything about it. That's a terrible way to live really. Yet I do it. Many of us do.

I'm not here to solve problems or deliver answers. Those don't come to me right away. Sometimes simply raising the question is enough. "Why do I do what I do?" I've put a bit of thought into these here questions. I hope you do too.

An Attempt at Poetry

When the party's over and the music drops
When your friends go home and the drinking stops
When things fall apart and your plans all flop
When emptiness is all you know
And the smiles you make are just for show
When it's all you can do not to sit and cry
And it seems the entire world has passed you by
It's only then do you know who you really are
True colors revealed when faced with fire
Only then will you understand what it truly means to be a man
To face yourself and question why
How you became an ugly lie
Filled with doubts and regret each day
Maybe these feelings have come to stay
But it's how you persevere that matters most
And how you press on after you've given up the ghost
You already have what it takes within
Go wash your face and repent of your sins
Look in the mirror and face your fears
Growth is not instant; it usually takes years
But if you really try to live each day
As if everything you have could be taken away
Then you'll appreciate what you have and know
Being content is a good way to grow
Having doubts or fears isn't necessarily wrong
It's how you survive them that makes you strong
Always strive to confront your fears
And those crippling doubts will start to disappear
Just be who you are and do your best
Tackle goals, chase dreams and never rest
Not every dream will pan out and come true
But at least you gave it a shot and did it while being you
Live a life worth living and never forget
The hand you've been dealt is the one you get

Broken Mirrors

Cold, white, plastic. Rosy cheeks, a painted smile on the lips, two holes for the eyes. The mask lay on the bed. He eyed it cautiously, not wanting to make prolonged eye contact with the endless darkness in its eyes, but he knew would have to face the music. What if he didn't wear it this time? Unthinkable at first. He had worn it for so long he had forgotten would it was like to be bare-faced in public. But the more he thought about it, the more it became a possibility. A small seed of hope grew into a monster that he could not shake.

Could he do it? Was he willing to step outside and face the mob without protection? Was he really  ready to brave the harsh world outside with the angry scars that distorted his face?

Scars.

It hurt to think about it. The burn marks on his face still hurt, after all these years. He reached up to touch his face and then thought better of it. He knew what they looked like. He had tried to forget many times. The mirror that used to hang on the wall now lay smashed and shattered on the floor for a reason.

School.
Crowded halls, noisy, public, exposed. Surrounded and alone. The cold plastic chaffed his wounds. He tried to make his voice sound cheery to match the painted smile that covered his lips. Short and brief in all he said, afraid if he spoke too much, his plastic falsity would become apparent. Eyes on the floor, avoiding conversation and interaction at all costs, slipping away as soon as the introductory small-talk had been exhausted.
"Hey bro, how you doin'?"
"I'm good."
"You sure? How are things?"

Smile, eyes up, fight the tears, don't let your voice break. "Everything's good."

Drained and exhausted but he knew the end of the day brought a false hope. Home was no better.

The mirror still lay in pieces on the floor. Ten million shards of glass and tears. The countless pieces scattered across floor. Each one a memory. Each one a fault. Each one a monster. Pain, fears, nightmares; they all came flooding back. His wounds burned as the tears began to flow. Fight the tears. Stop it before it erupts. Cover your mouth. Calm down, relax, breathe; drown them quickly, quickly. Recover. Deep breath.

He had put it off as long as he could but it was time to leave. The mask lay on the bed. The bus was pulling up outside. With trembling hands, he donned the smile. He knew why he had to wear the mask.

"I'd seen that look on your face before. It's the same one I taught myself.. I figured it out too late. You gotta learn to hide the pain, and practice smiling in the mirror. It's like putting on a mask."