Life has always only ever been a balancing act. We stay somewhere safely in the middle of living the life we truly desire and making It seem as if we are. When I was young people used to call me lucky all the time. My how I've grown to loathe that word. As if what's been awarded me in life was something placed in front of me and not the product of someone's hard work. I never said this. People would tell me I'm pretty, That I have a great smile. I never argued. My life has always ever been on the lighter side of this balancing beam. For all intents and purpose I've been told over and over again about how great I am and how wonderful my life is by everyone except the small voice in my head. People see what I show.
Had I given any insight to my mind all the times I've cried myself to sleep because of how much I hated school and all my A+ marks. Had anyone seen how I sat alone in the airport on my parental switch between mom and dad missing both at the same time wishing I could just stay home and go to Hayley's pool parties with my friends instead of starting off my summer with a strange flight attendant who'd rather be anywhere in the world but with me. If anyone saw how many times I allowed blood to run from my skin in the hopes emotions were something tangible I could release as easy as a swipe. If anyone saw the chains of regret that lay heavy on my ankles from all the missed opportunities the voice of anxiety has held me from. The people I've let go because that voice won't let me say hello. If anyone knew the feeling in my stomach when someone brings up 'daddy issues'. When everyone would tell me how well I'm being treated by people who seemingly find respect for my body impossible. If people heard the thoughts that plague me every time someone wishes to bring up the future. How much I battle to see the beauty and life in the eyes of that person in the mirror.
If my life were more tell than show, the luck you believe I so avidly swim in would drain from your thoughts and back into the pit of your stomach. The pit of a stomach where your own sorrows lie, where your own stories remain untold. Where your life remains a show and no tell.
