Time Itself Still Teaches

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A Sense of Belonging

 

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A Sense of Belonging‘ by Sonja P.

 

Every year, same place, same time, same feeling.

Every year there is a sense of anxiety unlike any other,

A need to perform perfectly,

A need to prove oneself.

 

As I perform my piece, it is never quite as I had hoped,

But always good enough.

For every year there is a sense of anxiety unlike any other,

A need to perform perfectly,

A need to prove oneself.

 

For as I leave the stage, and return to my seat,

The anxiety is not gone.

But lurks, and dances under the internal moonlit waves.

A need to be on,

A need to be spectacular.

 

But as I stand aside, and watch my peers taking a picture without me in my final year,

It is my utter realization that the anxiety was not performance based.

No.

It was the sense of never belonging.

My One Real Regret

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There are many things that I regret, though I would never explicitly say it, nor admit it. Regrets as simple as singing the wrong piece in a vocal competition, to eating too much cheese at a friend’s house party. Generally, however my regrets have been small, and non-important in the long run, mostly comprising of small regrets that wouldn’t have really mattered if I did what I wanted to do, or should have done during that time frame.

I feel very fortunate to have a family that loves me, friends that care, and a life that I believe is worth living. With this said, there is one, and only one event that I regret, and deeply regret, and was caused by my own insecurities, and my ability to overthink, and overanalyze events that future were far from there.

The story begins, and ends in grade 8, middle school. I met this guy, let’s call him M, through my extracurricular activates, which so happened to be my favourite activity in the world; the school musical. Though I do admit that it wasn’t love at first sight, I slowly but surely noticed him, and that is saying a lot, for I normally have my head in the clouds. He was friendly, kind, and overall a gentleman, and I actually took counsel from some of my younger musical friends, to ask him to the school dance.

That school dance, was the best time I had ever had at a dance before, and still to this day, tops every social party event I have ever been to.

We ended up going out, and though still to this day I don’t like to admit, that we were dating, I smile to myself at the ignorance I had and still have when reminded of these events. M was kind caring and compassionate, he made me feel comfortable in my own skin, and best of all, spending time with him, took my head out of the clouds, and I was for once grounded in the now and the present.

Fast forward several months of dating, the school musical was soon to end, if not had already ended and I, being full of self-doubt and over thinking started to consider the what ifs and the future, knowing we were not going to the same high school. Long story short, through all the inner turmoil, I broke up with him, telling myself it would be the best for the both of us.

In hind sight I should have just left it at that, but deep down I really liked M, and wanted to be around him, so being the selfish person I was, over the beginning of my high school years stayed in contact with him, which I now realize was a crude way of leading him on to a relationship, that I wanted, but wouldn’t let myself have.

I distinctly remember telling M, near the end of our time we spent together during high school, that I felt that I didn’t really know him.

But time is fair, in this kind of way, for as if the countless nights of thinking about these terrible decisions I had made, and cruel and thoughtless things I had said, were not enough, the tables turned in my final year of high school. I was good friends with a guy, let’s call him A, and well I had a massive crush on him, but he led me on, and it was at the end of the year when I talked to him face to face when I realized that he actually did not know me, and everything I had told him, had never been truly heard. It was then, when I truly realized through my own pain, what I have done to have wrong M, and how I was so unfair.

But time is kind, in a sense for though, some attempted conversations with M had led nowhere, his kindness still prevails, and I think to myself, how lucky any woman would be to be in a relationship with him. For kindness is too often overlooked, and pain is too often remembered.

If there is anything I have learned from my one real regret, it would be to appreciate what you have in relationships and friendships that you have. Don’t overthink, and just enjoy your moment on the ground and feeling present, in a world that many, including I would sometimes like to escape.

Sincerely,

Sonja P.

 

Real

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‘Real’ by Sonja P.

 

What makes someone real? Is it their tangibility? Or their presence that can be felt across a crashing sea? Is it their voice, their eyes, their smile? Or is it their tangibility? Their presence, that can be felt across a crashing sea?

What makes someone real?

 

For I know that I am Real. I see myself, I know I exist, I laugh and breath like anyone else, but there is so much more than tangibility; the physical extremities, that make a person real.

What makes someone real?

 

Reality is not when you can see a person, but it is when you can stare into a person’s eyes and you can see, them. Not their clothes, their hair, their, looks. But you can see their souls. Their raw selves that they constantly shelter from the icy world.

What makes you real?

 

For you are not a fake, a fraud, nor just a passenger in today’s life. You are as real as the air we breathe, and as pure as the crystal waters that come from the freshest springs.

Do not hide your reality,

For reality, is you.