Thought – Kitty Michelle's Universe

Pain. You are a life reminder, You are the reminder that we are mortal, the reminder that we have to struggle to obtain something. You remind us that the moments when apparently nothing special is going on, they actually are moments in which all the magic of life runs smoothly. They are moments in which we should be grateful.
Oh, not necessarily religiously grateful, not necessarily being praying or such. But rather remember we should open our arms turn the head up to the sky and giggle, smile, laugh, inhale harmony.

Pain. The torment of aching, a little irking, a deadly wound. Different degrees of pain, different and still all alike. Pain is not measurable. Sometimes it is, in theory it could be, but we are human, we are love creatures, emotional creatures, and that makes it relative.

There is who is facing death, and feels calm, painless, blessed. Then there could another girl: having lost the use of a finger, she wanted to be a pianist, and so she ends up thinking her life is destroyed, with no future and those thoughts intoxicate her mind, to the point she feels like dyeing, and in fact she does. Because pain is absolute and relative at the same time. There is no absolute value, even a small one can become an insurmountable mountain. Paradoxically, the very same fact that a little thing may turn out to be unbearable, that same thing teaches us that nothing is insurmountable, and through our mind, spirit, and heart, we can put everything in perspective, and overcome anything.
Because in the same way as no relative is an absolute, then every absolute can be turned into a relative.

Pain,
Life Teacher

The fact is that most people is made up, or wrapped, with layers of lies. I want to be good, so I assume that maybe it starts with a little lie, a little “masquerade” so to speak. But then another one attaches to the first, like little insects accumulating on flypaper.
Another and another, and slowly the layer of lies becomes the dress, it becomes the day to day dress, their new normal, so to speak.
To these layers new lies are sometimes attached, to embellish the dress, to adjust it, and on and on. Tragic how this is the standard for most people, tragic how this may be the case for the ones around us.
Sometimes something happens revealing a flash of the covered skin, the true one, the fragile one and now even more fragile, delicate, so delicate that these people feel the need to hush to cover them, immediately.
A new layer, sinking the true self even deeper inside.
There are days when there is a little ripple, from inside, the desire to rebel, to scratch those fake (sometimes even beautiful) crusts, off the skin, to come out. For a moment there is the desire to rise, to show the pale skin, the scars, the flaws and beauty but then, it fades. It fades maybe because after all these people are attached to this or that, they fear losing something from the world that knows them fro what they are not. They fear they will be not only judged, but even not accepted, hated maybe.
So they give up. For a day, two, five, their soul hide and curl inside the built dress. A burning ember hidden in a royal shell.
After this period it all comes back to natural
It all comes back to putting new layers, inventing new glowing scales for their dress, for their armor.
In doing this, succumbing even more into feeling weak. Devoured by the paradox of the whole thing, since they started it all for one reason, feeling stornger.

Kitty

“Strong women do this, strong women do that, a strong woman don’t, a strong woman do …”.

All over the places we are told how a strong woman is the one who doesn’t beg, doesn’t ask, doesn’t stay where she’s not explicitly wanted and requested to please be. Or other things like this and that.

We are told how a strong woman should pretend to be this or that, how she should turn her shoulders in case this is not happening. Oh, no, I do not literally agree to that. It leaves out so much. A strong woman is simply herself, that is the truth.
A strong woman is the one who doesn’t care about being a strong woman, THAT is the truth. A strong person is the one who is herself, that is being strong, that is respecting ourselves and the others.

I am strong when I beg and I am silent, as much as when I demand to be listened. Not one bit less.

Am I not strong when I stay somewhere, even knowing that me giving my time and dedication is not requested and eventually will get to nowhere if not into a gift that may be used or not?

Isn’t that a true sign of how strong and self confident I am?
Isn’t a woman strong when she allows herself to hope for the impossible When she believes in dreams and pursue them, with focus and dedication?
Isn’t she the strongest being when that will make her fall and then she rises again to dream again and again?

How is it that society has pushed us to be slaves to a completely utilitarian way of thinking?
How is it that more and more it is “do ut des” and aligning to a way of thinking and behaving that determines and create a categorisation between who is “strong” and who is “weak”.
To drive people into seeing as stronger the one who “takes” as compared to the one who “gives” is wrong. And how is it that we allow these cages and false boundaries to decide what we are worth to achieve?

Such way of thinking is blind, superficial, it leaves out the core of of self affirmation, it does not recognise the strength of hearts in its entirety, cutting out half of it.

Take this writing, for example. Maybe this has no meaning to exist, maybe it will be read by none, or legions, so what? It can be considered small shitty collection of thoughts by a little woman, “weak maybe” because it has no reason to exist and will lead to nothing.

Well, the fact is: I am ME, and I do it anyway and the fact that maybe a part of me even hopes that someone smiles and feel motivated thinking alike makes me feel ok, it makes me feel everything but not a weakie. Take this writing, I write it because I feel like writing it, because I believe in these things, and if no one ever read it but it still stays written, well, that is one more reason why I am strong, or why I am “me”, while being a simple “dreamergirl” at the same time.

Strong women are the ones that stay, IF they WANT, till they want, and then go. They might stay till they get close to breaking, if they want, or till they feel it is enough, or not a minute. They can stay and then maybe regret they stayed too long, but proud they did their best.

Strong women don’t beg? Wrong.
They beg too, IF they WISH, if they find it worth.
They do it because they are strong, and their begging is a gift. Strong woman are the ones who are themselves, full stop.
Dominant, submissive, begging, staying, going, whatever. They are any way they want and feel. Respectfully, with awareness, and heart. Most of all, strong women do not give a damn about being categorised as strong women.

I Stay, I beg, I speak, I write, I affirm, I make mistakes, I face them, I don’t escape, I smile, I kneel, I love, I laugh, and more.

More than anything else, I am me.

The little things and signs of caring,
they are flowers in the wild field of our existences.

It is up to us to plant, spread and gift them.
Every day, in one million little things we can do that.
For no other reason if not because we feel it,
because of how it makes us feel and the good it might bring.

We do that, and one day we might be lucky and find ourself
in a garden full of life, smiles and flowers.

Let’s never waste the opportunity to seed joy.

The most fragile things
are those withstanding time.
Indestructible,
like butterfly’s wing beats

Thoughts, dreams,
legends, emotions.
The beauty of a breath,
a special evening, a kiss.

[just a personal reflection]

Tag: Thought

Life Lessons

Layers of Lies, Castles of Cards (LoL CoC)

♡ 𝕊𝕥𝕣𝕠𝕟𝕘 𝕎𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟 ♡

As Frail as Eternity