I’ve neglected this out of pouty hurt and a selfish betrayal. It happens. As much as I hate it I am human, a mis-wired human at times, but still human. There are emotions I don’t feel, emotions I don’t understand, things about people I will never comprehend from my slanted view of reality, but the things I do understand, the things I do feel, the items I experience burn through me and chill me with the most extreme temperatures of fantasy. It makes my reactions harsh, extreme, unexpected, or simply nonexistent. Yet I was able to experience something recently that has forced me think a lot.
A week or two ago (I have absolutely no concept of time) I visited a teacher I had in high school. She was a grounding point to me. An inspiration. A mentor. Later a friend. I visited her at the school that she still works at during her planning period. When I was a senior she and I worked hard to keep a program alive. I pumped life into that organization, I stressed over it, gritted my teeth at night in my room, and screamed in my mind wanting something more, wanting to bleed myself out and give life to something a country school wanted to die. Now it’s something amazing. She took the seed that I planted and guarded and poured my life into and made it into a beautiful tree that has stretched beyond the reaches I believed that school possible. It was heart warming. This was a creative writing club.
While I was there I was able to see a young woman practice two pieces for a competition. I was allowed to give input into the pieces. Since those days my mind has been considering that young woman and her pieces. While her topics had nothing to do with me. Her power, emotions, the fact that she was standing there reverberated in me.
The first thing is that I often feel what I’ve done has not impacted anyone. That my life has been a waste. That I’ve not touched anyone. That in the end I’m nothing and I’ve harmed more than done good. But I see a dream I had in High School inspire youth and being taken to amazing heights. Actually that same day I sat down with my grandmother and talked to her about it. I told her with moistening eyes that the idea that people year after year after year have been touched by this, have been given refuge, solace, peace, in something I did is humbling. That what I left behind will continue touching… I sit here and consider that impact and it makes me feel selfish for the way I’ve been feeling lately.
Then there was this young lady that graciously practiced in front of this stranger and listened to the words I had to say. I once ripped forth my emotion that way. I once armed myself with words. I once used them to draw forth the rawness of the storms of my insides. And an adulthood of attack after attack by those that declare love dampened it. I allowed myself to build barriers that hindered me. And watching this young lady pour out her pain reminded me of the original purpose of the organization I kept alive.
I kept it alive for the primary purpose to allow young people to express themselves and heal wounds via whatever they wrote. Be it stories, poetry, songs, or whatever else they choose to pin down may they heal and be alive with those words.
And sitting there I realized that I have impacted people. I have done good. I have succeeded in many ways. I have to remember that. I will fall, I will get down trodden, I will get beat down, but may I never forget that somewhere I crafted an open forum for people to grow and blossom. May I remember that I simple beginning has touched so many and even if it ends tomorrow those ripples from all those people may continue an idea and dream for as long as they remember. May I remember this, may I use this to continue to grow myself, and hopefully I will be able to continue to tear down my own restrictions with it.