I like your bowtie

Bullshit is the little bow that holds the present together. When you untie it, the present is exposed, and the once pretty bow is now an unraveled ribbon pathetically falling to the ground.

What is now, what we find comfort in living amongst is held together by a whole lot of pretty bows which are easily able to be torn apart and undone. We let bullshit hold our lives together. It makes us look pretty, put together, intentional, and meaningful. We hide behind the bows because we think it’s what people want to see. We think people want us to always be put together. We want to feel put together. It’s part of our hierarchy of needs. It’s funny that self-esteem lies just under self-actualization. It’s so close to the top, yet can be so astronomically far away from the truth. We start to believe the excuses we make are valid. We begin to think that our caked on face is prettier than our naked one. It isn’t until we reach the tippy top of Maslows pyrimid that we can see things as they really are. We can see the creases from the liquids and powders we cover ourselves with. We can see the chunks of mascara clotting our eyelashes together. We can see our dark roots growing in under our bleached hair. The view from the top shows a unique truth that pierces through us in the most painful yet beautiful way.

You’ll know when you reach it because it’s so damn hard. It’s like blowing out your birthday candles, only they were trick candles, walking away and then finding out that they relit and burnt your house down. Truth hurts like a burn, and they say burn victims endure the most pain imaginable. So if you’re having trouble reaching your self-actualization, remember that that’s part of the shitstorm. We have to ache, we have to become fed up, transparent, naked, true, and vulnerable.

We want to avoid answering the seemingly easy questions because “what do you want,” “how are you,” “what are you doing,” are actually the hardest and most complicated questions to answer. We follow the guidelines of a made up rule book that keeps getting passed around by other self-conscious, yellow-bellied, amicable conformers. We just can’t help it—doing what we really want, saying what we really mean, just isn’t polite.

Stepping back from the glass sliding door I’ve had my face pressed against for so long that my nose still has a resemblance of a snout, I can finally see the real view of my backyard. I can see those pretty little bows holding myself together.  The imprint of my face glares off the glass just so that the sunlight shines right onto yours too. I see those bows, and boy, they are pretty.

 

It happens in a moment

Life as we know it. What is it exactly? You think you know what it feels like to be in whatever life you have, then BOOM, it–oh so suddenly–is something different. How can time make life feel so different? How can something that was once so familiar become to feel so distant, and odd? Realizing it tho. That’s what’ll get ya. The feeling comes so quickly. You know, it’s kinda like the feeling you’d have trying to catch butterflies while running down an avalanche. Super unsettling. Super strange. Super unstoppable. No answers as to why or how. Just that feeling. And then, BOOM, you’re pulled back into your current reality…you look up from the picture the ground painted and move forward.

Something you thought you wanted, suddenly seems unworthy. Something you were so unsure about, suddenly has a distinct direction.

The kitchen floor your bare feet scuffle on is now different. Your daily routine starts to actually resemble a routine. Your waist is thinner. Your views are more colorful. People leave. People come.

 

Life gets different.

 

And you adapt to it; unaware of the smells and sights you used to know drifting further and further away from your consciousness. It’s only until a moment, a moment that the life you know dissipates, where something is catapulted back into your mind.

‘Hmm. That feels like something I used to know.’

But you can’t keep onto it. As quickly as it comes, it goes. All that’s left is that feeling of uneasiness because you know you just missed something. It’s like a dream that you know you vividly dreamt, but when you wake you suddenly can’t remember a lick of–only the lingering feeling of it. Floating in this awkward presence, your past life rubs with your current. Just enough to remind you that you lived once before.