Chosen: A Girl's Midnight Monologue

I wrote this last August, but I'm feeling it's necessary again on this Autumn day.

Ironic, how being yourself is possibly the most difficult thing one can do. Being satisfied. Being proud. Feeling like you could possibly measure up. To expectations. To those around you.

How does one do it? Is it possible -- or even plausible -- to trust... in the breaking of a new day; to trust in a day of mindless prayers, old pajamas, classes, school, books, paper; a TV, a remote, sitting -- just sitting!; a camera, lens, the shutter sounds; the piano bellows, it sings with its keys, fingers dancing, the vioce straining. There's a smile, there's a fight, a laugh, then a tear. And the days repeat, overlap. An occasional "hello" is followed, always, with a "goodbye".

Is this was it means? To be lovely or beautiful or wonderful? I don't believe so. If it is, I want nothing to do with any of it.

How can you possibly compare with THAT? How will you even attempt?... I couldn't... I can't...

I can only be m--

Thats when you realize. Love... Love is so much bigger than yourself... It is not "in my heart." Love is out-of-body. It is not something you achieve alone, you're not made to! Love isn't because you were good enough, it's because you were chosen (for whatever reason). CHOSEN. You were the gorgeous Lily in a field of white Daisies. In other words, the child touched you and yelled "goose!" while all the other kids were sitting ducks. Love is as wildly untame as the stallions and as miraculously free as the birds. Don't capture it by giving it a labled box. Don't hold it, don't claim it, don't own it... Bask and grow in it, because Love picked you, after you caught its eye and captivated it with one thing: yourself.

Photo from weheartit.com