What I Believe
Sometimes I like to wonder down the street to my neighborhood playground, especially
when it rains. I like to swing as high as possible, it reminds me of my childhood, when I believed
that I secretly was a butterfly and was only waiting to grow my wings. Each time I fly higher
into the crisp air my mind becomes more clear and with every inhale I am enthralled with the idea
of being completely content with myself. It all make sense, my life and everything that inhabits
its very essence. My mind begins to wonder about my whole way of thinking, my beliefs and
morals. I believe it all comes down to one thing, and that is to make everything I do beautiful.
In the morning when my soul begins to stir and I slowly, very slowly, decide to get out of
my warm bed, I think of all my regrets. I think about my past, and what scars it has left me with.
But it all depends if I feel it is going to be a good day or bad one that I decide to linger in them
for any longer. My past is a castle filled with scenes of religious wars, addictive relationships,
and the loss of love. No matter where I go I carry this tiny vile around my neck with this
tormented world occupying its walls. I exist for this pain and the pain exists for me. If I didn’t
have pain then I wouldn’t have anything to transform into something of beauty. The most
tormented creatures can be the most succulent of creatures.
Sometimes my memories hurt so much that I begin to feel overcome with an
overwhelming sense of confusion and helplessness. I feel like the pain will never cease to exist
and there is nothing I can do to make it bearable. In that very second it is clear to me that I have
to make something of those intense feelings, and writing poetry or painting becomes a nessecity.
The pain slowly pours out onto paper or the blank canvas with the intention of relieving the
burden that has impelled my spirit at that moment. As my burden becomes lighter and lighter I
step back for a second to see my creation. What lies in front of me is not sorrow or emptiness it
portrays somewhat of a happy story, a fairy tale that has been waiting to escape the realms of
the insane. I look at my problems in a different light then, I look at my glass half full. It is a
miracle really, that such beauty could rise above the tragic.
If you enjoyed this essay, please consider making a tax-deductible contribution to This I Believe, Inc.