Beauty is only Skin Deep. What is on the surface but a mask? “There was a time when stillness meant nothing to me, Once, silence meant lack of sound; Fall came once a year, I danced, red cheeked, Each year's first snow, Tongue out to taste each flake's welcome sting. I laughed, distinct from nature's cycles, A scrap of wonder, floating in a torrent of sorrow I couldn't grasp. That laugh, mouth open, sums up my past, I craved fulfillment, too shallow to know I could never be fully filled again.” I Am Ghost This quote almost seems as if it were written for me. Though, I think that’s the point. It was written for everyone. A reminder of how we once were leading up to how we will always become. To blind to see we have everything right in front of us, everything we could ever need to be happy. We, as children, didn’t care about materialism. We were not greedy. We were happy with the simple pleasures that after growing out of innocence we forget. Winter was always my favorite season. I always loved the snow, and when I sit out in a swirl of cold wind and sparkling flakes, I can remember how I used to be. When I was small, I once believed that there was no worry of a future. I believed nothing could hold me back. My past was made up of clouds and dreams, wondrous creatures that made the world bright. I only saw rainbows and butterflies, pixies and fireflies. Everything a child could dream of and love was in my heart. It was in my nature to hear laughter, to feel like nothing could touch me. I was young, I didn’t understand the world, or perhaps I did. Perhaps I understood the world better when I was young. I took everything for what it was worth. Never forgetting the magic that was around me, never brought down with worry or uncontrollable sadness that never seemed to end. My past was about dancing among the imaginary beings I called my friends. The ones that were made from the colors of crayons and brought to life in dancing shadows. My past was about everything a child should feel. My past was overwhelmed with the way the world was supposed to be. It was without complexity, it was simple, and joyous, and whatever I wanted I could take. I could have anything, mold myself to anything. I was free to be everything, to be nothing. “I once believed that life was a gift. I thought whatever I want I would someday possess. Is that greed, or only youth? Is it hope or stupidity? As far as I was concerned the future was a book I could write to suit myself, chapter after chapter of good fortune. All was right with the world and my place in it was assured, or so I thought then. I had no idea that all stories unfold like white flowers, petal by petal, each in its own time and season, dependent on circumstance and fate. The future is something no one can foretell.” Green Angel By Alice Hoffman Now that I have grown, life is more uncertain. I have learned that the future changes with every simple action. That nothing is definite and no matter how hard I dream, there are restrictions. I have learned we are not completely free. I have learned that we hold ourselves back, we lock ourselves inside of our minds. Perhaps it’s ruining an amazing potential we once held, but perhaps it’s showing us a realistic side to living, to how things have to be. I have learned tragic lessons in life like worry and pain. I have learned that you can’t get by on happiness, and I have learned fear. I have been fed heartache and disappointment. I have seen the difference between dreams and reality. Now that I grow into responsibility, into my own, into the harshness of what the world can really do, I am realizing that my present needs more then dancing and laughter. I know I can no longer snap my fingers and have what I wish. I cannot magically conjure up everything I want reflected in myself. My present has become work. Not in the sense that it is a burden to live through, but in the sense that I must achieve everything as a reward from determination. I have come to accept in my present that need must come before want and everything has a price. Determination to succeed fill my fearful mind at the thought of failure. The present seems full of uncertainty, more so then the future. I have come to realize that here and now is what matters, this is what will make my future. Every opportunity that comes my way, every circumstance that changes a bit of my life will decide what I become. My present is simply me, everything you see before you. My present is made up of me living, growing, and becoming what I was meant to be. “It was the ink of a sister, a woman with long, dark hair, a man who was strong. It was the ink of a witness, of a girl of sixteen who had no idea what the future might bring. Green as the world we once knew.” Green Angel By Alice Hoffman As I continue to grow and the present slowly molds into the future, I can see myself as what I would like to become. Happy, loved, and fulfilled in all life has to offer. My hope as I continue to write my own way through this life is that I become something to be proud of, to look up to. I hope that I never forget the simple joys that I have held onto for so long, and I hope that I never forget to be thankful for everything, no matter how small. I cannot see into the future, I can only guess and dream about what is to come. But my realization is, the future is never going to come. Everything is today, everything is here and we need to make the most of it. In the end, when someone looks back at the story I wrote, the life I lived, I hope they see what it really meant to me. “When the last words of the tale were written, she finished with a flourish, and as the final stroke was made, the words on the page emerged into being. The invisible lines of her quill turned black, and the story showed itself. She looked over what she had done and sighed. So much had passed, and it had come to this. In sentences and paragraphs of that tome were her sorrow, her triumph, her heart.” Poison By Chris Wooding
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