uncovering my archives: part 1

i have a couple of A3 art books full of writing. and i've decided to share!

welcome to part 1 where i'll be decoding (i aren't the neatest writer) this:

a piece of writing wouldn't be mine if it didn't have a reminder attached to it. this one is to STOP BEING AFRAID OF BEING TRULY SEEN.

August 17th 2023, 1.49am

I was a mute child, I knew I was quiet, growing up. My parents had told me I didn’t speak. But I never knew how little they meant that to be. I literally didn’t speak. If I did it was a whisper. It’s like it’s in my roots, my inner-core, the makings of who I am, to not speak. I think why as a child when all the other three-year-olds played and made friends without a care in the world, my favourite place was a quiet corner. Maybe there is as an explanation more scientific or one that a psychiatrist could explain, but from the pure philosophical perspective of it all, I ask why. Have I always valued myself beneath others, placed myself so low and stripped myself of importance to the point where I cannot even speak? Because why would my opinion be valid, be right above theirs? I think I probably overthought a lot at just three years old, and that has not changed. Whilst most of my childhood is a blur and it seems the majority of my memories have been wiped, I know I have kept my consistency in terms of giving myself extremely minimal value. At about five, I literally had a dislocated arm, I was in so much pain but I didn’t tell the doctor, I didn’t cry, they moved it, twisted it, shipped into different positions and told my mum I was fine and to only visit in emergencies. They said a child would cry if something was wrong. And I did as soon, as I was alone with my mother in the car. And just like magic, it popped right back into place. I wobbled as a child to when learning how to walk. I could never quite keep myself stable. As if I was a little rocking chair in a room full of stiff leather sofas and oak dining tables. I could walk, I managed, I always managed. That was never the problem. I could walk, but I wasn’t stable. My family would watch in fear as I wobbled from one side of the room to the other. I still think I carry myself in this way. I never quite feel totally comfortable in my stride, like I could fall at any minute. I’ve always just managed while other people thrived because they want it. in a room full of people, they take the last slice of pizza, I mean someone has to, but I could never. Could I? Me? Is that selfish or is it giving yourself some value? You deserve that last slice as much as everyone else does. It’s weird, I don’t know. I prefer to be the one who takes a couple slices and if someone asks 'anyone want the last slice?', I let them take it, smiling, knowing they’re going to enjoy the last light as much as they enjoy all the other slices and all the other times when they've given themself some worth and belief and valued themself as much as they valued others around them. I just want to appeal perfect to everybody. I don’t allow myself to make mistakes without severe punishment. I want to be everybody’s perfect person, but that is just not possible because to gain love from others I need to find myself. And not just look in the mirror but recognise my roots, my inner-core, the makings of who I am, and if I don’t like that bit, I should make an effort to change, and the manipulation of who I may be should not be for the purpose of fulfilling another persons idea of who they want me to be, but for me, I need to love myself, value myself, in order to receive love from those around me. I must share my opinion and instead of being fearful of my imbalance learning to embrace it until I’m no longer hanging off the edge, but completely comfortable. Some strangers, friends, family may not like who I am but that should not be my concern. If I love who I am then surely I should only love the people that value and love me too. Being quiet and holding back from your true self is so restrictive and the most damaging thing you could ever do to yourself. You lose to connection, and instead, fill that void, clinging onto any acceptance you can find. You just feel a sense of lack, an emptiness, because that’s how you present yourself to the world. This amazing mind, brain and person masked by a character of nothingness. All to feel some love because the fear of rejection. But is that worth your worth? When all people see you as is boring.

hope u enjoyed my 2am thoughts at 17:). it's time to be SEEN and HEARD.