When people hear my story, they want to feel sorry for me. I guess most people don't understand the concept of beauty coming from the ashes. My life may be crazy, scary, fucked up, and at times funny. But who I am is where I've been, and what I've felt. Here I sit, 23 years young, drinking a beer at the bar of my current place of employment. Six hours from now, it will be one week ago that my ex-boyfriend, a man I was supposed to be able to trust, tried to kill me. Yet here I sit, looking at all the faces and emotions surrounding me.. and all I really see is, that I just may be the most emotionally satisfied, content person in this bar. I ask myself how this is possible just as I have since I was young.
Though this time, the question has a much different connotation. Now, it's more of a question of "how do these people not know how unhappy they are?" instead of "Why are these people so miserable or unhappy?" When we are young, we are ignorant. Even the smartest, best, and brightest, of us.This makes it easy to ask "why". Whereas I have now discovered, the biggest question, the one which matters most yet is consequently all too neglected.. is "How?" "How do these people now see what they feel?", "How does it take so long for people to discover what they truly want from life?", "How is it that a great many of them (who happen to be remarkable people) do not see the the pain they feel, what they want, or more simply, that they are even unhappy until its too late? The best answer I can come up with is that: The goggles we have to wear to make it in this screwed up and morally bankrupt civilization, have become damn foggy. However all that is done as a result, is the adjustment of the eyes. No one thinks to grab some freaking Windex.
By: Linnea Loree