Alright, so in panic, for I wanted to write something which would help my family. I spent six years writing up what I think is one of my finest stories. That was 2 years ago, and I started college shortly after. Suddenly that marvel I didn't like anymore, so that was six years of work panned, but I kept trying, i have a ton of projects and college has now found a balance in my life. I have been writing well till now... A 3 Month disturbance has halted my progress, and right as I've returned to projects I enjoy.
It still feels like the world wants to stomp upon me. Everyone says "Growing Up", "Maturing". And while, it may seem childish...
You don't understand, my imagination and writing are why I live, I live to write those stories, it is the one thing I do well. I abandoned the six year story because it felt too... too... "real", too mirroring of rageful reality. Also it represented a genre in a modern way, which I've grown to hate.
Anyway, you can see how, this constant mention of maturing and whatnot has now formed into an insult upon what makes me me. Well it had.
Now, 2 years have officially passed since college started. And while, some things hurt, I'm able to hold it in... No... those insults and whatnot, the sort of ignorance to what I am passionate about. They mean little, nothing really. It's how it always is, I'm always deathly afraid when I am foisted into something. Then I realize, i'm not on a tightrope, or at least i'm not balancing alone. I've realized how lucky I am, even though I've always known, I know it more truly now. And while I still painfully conform, I still do precisely what I wish not too. I do it with a smile, and feel it not until I am alone. As if laughing in the face of those Conforming Perturbances. Nothing will change who I am.
And I did use to cry a lot, actually last month I had never cried so hard, no one heard, or maybe they did, it was midnight... But... It's weird, I don't really cry anymore... I feel tired surely, spent, but when I write again, I'm reminded that I defeated all those things which tried to spurn me. And while I wish to remain and write as I used to... Though I still feel I have no right to say no, this paradoxical impairment, has offered me an interesting opportunity. One I had never wished for.
To grasp the perturbing, conforming tendrils of this supposed Maturation by the neck, and remind it: "I Shall Not Change".
I was always scared of being changed by the world, but now that I've been foisted out their, and luckily only a bit, I see now... I see that while it burns, and I oft feel broken, and do cry in the shower in pain. I have not been broken truly.
The World Can't break me, it's true, God does not set a path afore us we cannot surpass! And in that I feel overjoyed. I feel warm, each day I am made stronger, when I would've ordinarily collapse in tears. There is no changes, only when one halts, and gives up... I've given up on many things, But never again. That's where I am now. And though i may often flounder in despair, I need despair sometimes, to remind me again, the Love of God, and the fact that the world, It can't break me, and never will, as long as I hold on, keep praying, keep dreaming, keep hoping, until I've reached that summit where I can build that foundation to lift all i can ever higher and be there if they fall to help them back up again.
I feel stupid too, for doubting. I also feel I'm a dramatic boy on page, and a rather plain seeming, silent man in person. But, I'll never stop being that boy, never! F You Maturation! And while God keeps throwing me curveballs of pain, they're curveballs, and never trully hit me... And I feel... oddly safe...
I'll keep strangling maturation, continue being who I am, for while the world may want something else of me, it's clear, God is at my side, and though he may run my feet through what feels like fire... soon they'll be as tough as stone.