Morals

I don't know if everyone feels this. I don't know if people have the need to be...more like I need to. It's hard to explain exactly but I feel like just believing in something isn't enough. Sure you can tell yourself that your a feminist, not racist, pro equality and everything else you think you should be to be a good person but I feel like having those morals isn't enough. I want to make a difference, I want to really fight for what I believe in because I truly believe that without morals then what do you have? What is humanity without your ideologies? And when I die what will I be remembered for? You may notice that even if you hate someone normally sympathy will take over if they die and you will end up saying how nice that person was so this leads me to believe that being remembered as nice, a good person or someone who lived a 'happy life' isn't really being remembered at all. When I say I want to make a difference I don't mean to the world, though that is the general goal it's a little unrealistic, I would be happy to make a difference to those who know me, to be remembered as that girl who believed in things so strongly that it changed things.  My whole family are realists. They see the world for what it is and accept that big changes aren't possible, they criticize me for my idealistic ideology and consider it child's play but like I said, I can't shake the need to be more. Maybe they're right, maybe I ought to be more pragmatic but for now I will continue to assess people, and myself, on their morals, I will strive to become the person I believe I should be and I will enjoy being 100% an idealist.    

Lust

Lust. That's what I feel for him. I can't help it. I want him. I need him. He is like a drug, when he smiles my heart melts and when he frowns my heart aches. The guilt was to much, I couldn't be with someone and feel this way about another so I ended it. Yet, I feel no better. I long to tell him my feelings but, like most, I fear rejection. But that's not all, I feel...unworthy of him. He is kind, caring and has a heart of gold and what am I? Nothing. I don't deserve to be with him or to even cast my eyes on such an angel. I love him. That much I know but I don't know about him. He is unreadable. Occasionally I catch him staring at me or I see him look at me as I talk with an expression I've never seen before that leads me to believe I have a chance. But then he acts overly friendly and I despair. I suppose I have to accept that he is a dream I will never reach. I do, at least, have his friendship. Many lust over that, I see it in the eyes of girls as we walk down the halls. The jealousy and envy that they have towards me, just because he is my friend, is intense. I can understand why of course. His smile lights up a room, never have I seen someone grab everyone's attention like that and never have I been so pleased for someone to choose me to walk up to. Lust. It's uncontrollable and it is horrifyingly painful.

Family

Family is a tricky thing. Spending so much time with a specific group of people can be difficult, even if you do share blood. Homes are filled with love, laughter, pain, jealousy, envy, tears and arguments but it's completely natural. I think it differs depending on the family, mine for example has a lot of love, laughter and arguments but we are a little low on the tears since we are all too stubborn to care enough to cry. I am the youngest of three and my brothers are a mix of ego and sarcastic jokes. The eldest is difficult and shoulders more ego than anyone else, though he is lovable and of course has his moments of kindness, he is a pain in my butt but what brother isn't? He has a need to be right and loves to be superior which wouldn't be hard with his superiority in age but with a sister like me,who refuses to be looked down on,it's more than a little hard to get his way. The other brother isn't any better. He cares, a lot, and though it's touching, it's also a huge pain. I am grateful for his compassion but sometimes I don't want compassion and love, sometimes I want to share my views and not be greeted with a "when you're older you'll think differently." As for my parents well they are great and I am lucky to have such relatively open minded parents but that doesn't mean I agree with everything they think. They have views that leave me with my jaw dropped, they mock things that I consider hugely important and if I hear one more "but you're a teenager of course you think that" I may strangle them both. Needless to say, my family infuriates me but we share happy moments as well. And if you think I've been a bit harsh, you should hear what they say about me.

He Was Sad

Today he was sad. And as his head dropped low, my heart grew heavy. His eyes were pools of despair  and his lips were a hard line. I asked him what what wrong but he simply shook his head and a twinge of sadness tightened my heart. I tried to cheer him up and though he laughed at my attempts, it wasn't his usual uplifting laugh but instead a sad one; the type of laugh that you use to cover up whats inside. At the end of it all he smiled and left, not knowing what he really meant to me. I longed to comfort him. I ached to know what caused him such trouble. I wished to reach into my soul and give him it if it meant his happiness. But I can't. I never will.

Love

To long for someone is to truly experience pain. But what if someone loved you but you loved another? It is a cruel, twisted fate. It's not that I don't love my boyfriend, I do. God I do. But Jack. Sweet and gentle Jack. A loving friend but I don't want to be just his friend yet I don't want to leave my boyfriend. Some days I think I can do it, I can live like this and I will get over this crush. Then I see him and my heart stops. His beautifully freckled face, that one darker freckle next to his eye, even his horribly chewed nails that he bites when lost in thought. It hurts to see him smile, laugh, and look at me with his piercing blue eyes. In this world filled with filth and cheats among us walks an angle, a beacon of light and to be in his presence is to be in the presence of  joy. Falling in love is an unusual act, you never know if you really are in love or not. Is it possible to feel different kinds of love? Is it possible to split your heart and give it to two people? Love is complex. One love can be comfortable, endearing and the other can be fiery and passionate but are they not both love? How do you chose? Is it right to be with the man who sits with you when you cry? The man who is there when your laughing? The man who has always been there, a constant wall who keeps you up right? Or rather the man who makes you hold your breath? The man you spend the day longing to be with? The man who creeps into your thoughts in the night? Love is beautiful. Love is everything. Too much love will break your heart more than no love at all.

Freedom

Freedom. People fight for it, die for it and life without it is meaningless. It defines a person- the choices they make, the words they speak, the thoughts they have and even the dreams they have. Freedom is living and not having it, is not being a person. Without freedom you are but a shell of a being with no identification. Not having freedom can mean lots of things, it could mean being a slave in the ‘20s or, more commonly, being a child. Depending on your family, freedom is not granted until you are about 18 years of age. 18 long years with no identification. Someone making your choices, choosing your words, telling you what your thoughts are and even the dreams you have. It is soul destroying. It is not living. But what of the people who never make it out the tunnel, the ones who die before life even starts. Or even the ones who are adults with no freedom, death is sweeter. A life with no freedom is a life not lived. It is painful and unjust. Unlike in the days of the slaves, freedom is not taken out of maliciousness but rather fear and love. Fear from the person you love to be hurt but is it worth stunting that love’s life? To live my life knowing this is all the freedom I will have, to know that there is no light at the end of the tunnel is what I imagine hell to be made of. No crueller act can be laid on to someone. Nothing is as important as freedom. To be told what your choice should be rather than choosing it, even if the same, is like ripping out someone’s brain. How does one measure a life? Is it not by their decisions, actions and beliefs? And so how does one’s life be measured if they never made those decisions, did those actions and expressed those beliefs? How does one even call that a life?  Freedom. It is the reason behind so many deaths, so much pain yet so many are denied their little bit of freedom every day. Though some don’t deserve freedom, how can this world accept the pain of growing up without it? When one abuses their freedom, they are striped of it as punishment, sentenced to a life in jail yet we give the same life to our children. Yes freedom is everything, it is why life is worth living and it is why people marched through the streets of Washington, it is why people died on the bridge in Selma and it is why children cry when a parent yet again rips freedom from their hand.