Exactly How Shallow the Seas Are

Everyone thinks that the seas are so deep, but they are nothing compared to some of the secrets and feelings that we hold. I once wrote a poem, H2O/ The deep, opaqueness of...air. It talked about things like this: I remember one line- something like... "So deep, and so unpredictable, that I could not uncover even you shallowest secrets..." I was using that to describe one person, yet later on took a broader viewing of it and saw that it covers us all. Even, as we may call them, the most shalow person in the world, may have secrets too far down, that we cannot even begin to fathom. We cannot even imagine some of the secrets we ourselves hold. I know I don't, but I hope to, all a part of the process of discovering and accepting myself. A process I know will take a long time, and I admit that, and am willing to work for that amount of time. This is one of my main reasons for going on. It should be one of everybody's. If we leave here without discovering why we are the way we are, what was it worth? What was any of the suffering, or the pain, or the loss worth, except to understand just one, tiny, seemingly insignificant part of ourselves, that later turns out to be as big and important as the universe? In my opinion, I believe in a place, after , in which people go, a void, you might say, not a Hell, just nothingness, to which people go when they die without learning what they were supposed to in their alloted time on Earth. For those who did learn, they may either go to a Nirvana, or may go back to Earth, in another life, to either learn more, or help others to do so. I say all of this, because this is my confession of my secrets, of my self, the good, the bad, the inbetween... of me, simply me...

I am insecure. I know this, I admit it, I embrace it and yet, at times, I push it away. I embrace this because it makes me want to improve. It makes me human. All humans are insecure about one thing or another. If you don't think you are, you are lying, to yourself, to others. That is your insecurity, -insecurity. I want to be comfortable, with who I am, how I am. But I'm not. A fault I share with the rest of humanity. To this fault, I am guilty.

I am a liar, a backstabber, a deceiver, all of these. I know this, I admit this, I push it away. I do not want these. I dislike hurting others. These are not qualities. These are faults. I wish that I never caused anyone pain, or anguish, but I have. I wish I never did it again, but I will. To this fault, I am guilty.

I am a discriminator. As much as I dislike using stereotypical groups-goths, preps, nerds, etc.-they exist, in this day's society. Therefore they exist in me too. I wish I could judge people by who they are, not what they are. I try, sometimes I succeed. I have a friend, Lauren, whom some call- part of that popular group. They don't know her, I would like to say I do, but I don't. Fortunately I can say that i know more than they do. And she is not snobby, nor is she discriminative, nor is she show-offy (for lack of a better term). She is one of the most accepting, caring people, and i wish to live up to her standards. Of this charge, and this hope, I am guilty.

I am human. I know this, I admit this, I embrace it, and at times push it away. Being human is a gift and a curse. There are two sides to everything- being a part of humanity is no exception. I love being human, I despise being human. For all our faults, we still have goodness. For all our goodness, we still have faults. Every human included. We all contribute, we all take away. Of this blessing and of this curse, I am guilty, and thankful.

I am prideful. I know this, I admit this, I embrace it, but I mostly push it away. It is good to be proud of what you have done, as long as you don't overdo it. Congratulate yourself, and put it out of your mind. Move over to the next good task. Do not ever say, well, I made my contribution, now to look to myself. I am guilty of that, and of pride.

I am happy. I know this, I admit this, I embrace it, yet surprisingly, sometimes, i push it away. I am glad to be happy, yet sad others are not so. Why should I be happy, and care for myself, when others who have cared for me are down themselves? In my giving comfort to them, I tend to lose it, or feel guilty for feeling better than they do. Of this blessing, I am guilty, and thankful, for.

I take things for granted- to feel the shining of the sun, to smell the scent of a rose, to hear the sound of wind, to see the drops of rain, to breathe the air... So many things others have no more. So many things I experience every day. For this sin, I am guilty.

I am thankful for the wrong things- the taste of cotton candy, the touch of a lover, the "perfect" temperature for walking. Things that are not necessary. Things that are not as simple as the sound of rain on a cold sidewalk, or the taste of it on your tongue, or the sight or the perfect thunderstorm, or the feel of the cold, or the smell of the fresh damp air, or the embracing wetness of it on your bare skin. Things that are more beautiful, more meaningful, than some fake perfume. Of this, and wishing for more natural wholesome things, I am guilty.

I am myself. Enough said.

Verdict-

...guilty.