I remember when I first related the world to poetry. I was 8 and had been playing in the woods by my grandmothers house. At some point, I came to a fork in the trail and I thought of Robert Frost's A Road Not Taken:
"Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,Perhaps at the time, I didn't understand the significance of having remembered a part of a poem and relating it to my reality, but I would be lying if I didn't tell you the truth and say that I did in fact understand. To be honest, I understood more then, then I do now. At that age, I believed everything held some philosophical importance. I completely agreed with Shakespeare when he related the world to a stage. I believed myself to be a wonderful actress, and that my life, my world, would only be as good as I acted and partially tricked myself into believing it was. I know, you're thinking that at eight years old I couldn't possibly have put that much thought into my behavior. On the contrary, my friend. I have always put great thought into my actions and more importantly, my reactions.
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth"
My mother was a story teller, so that may have had something to do with my mentality. Most little girls want to live in fairy tales, and they dream of one day awaking in a castle to find themselves fancied as a princess. In some senses, I was the same as every little girl. I, too, wanted to live an ideal life, to marry an ideal man, and to grow into an ideal woman. The difference was that, I believed I was in a fairytale already. I sincerely believed (or believe) that all of the heartache I would endure, was only to make my ultimate fairytale story more interesting, because alas, in the end all my dreams would surely come true. My dreams weren't what every girl wanted, no, they where much more surreal. I wanted to live in an entire different reality. I wanted not to be rescued in this world, but rescued from it. To another dimension, universe, another reality.
My birthday was not too long ago, I am now nineteen years old. Maybe that's not old, but it's one year shy of catapulting me into another stage in life. This is officially my last year to bask in adolescence. Perhaps I should be excited to grow, to evolve, but I'm not. I'm worried, Reader. What kind of woman will I be? I know that is the same thought for many people, so I should refrain from feeling alone...but it's such a lonely feeling. I'm beginning to wonder if I chose to be different or if it chose me. Is there a way to tell the difference? I doubt it.
I don't know if anyone reads my blog, and if they do, I don't know if they benefit from doing so. Either way, I've decided to take a break from it. Maybe forever, maybe not. But it's because I don't feel good enough for you anymore, Reader. I think you are worth so much, and I have nothing to offer you. I need to change, I need to grow, but it's such a frightening thing to do. I intend to work on myself, to tend to the frayed pieces of my personality. To improve myself, body, mind and soul. When I return, I'll have made myself into the person I keep talking about becoming. You'll fall in love with me, Reader. You'll believe in me more than ever, I promise. When I'm through, you will never doubt me again. As of now, I'm simply doing what I always do, which is type meaningless words. Soon I will make it all actions.
Until then, I shall say farewell and ask that you don't forget me.
With love, always,
Thurayya
