Beauty that is hope.

  I've never been one to admit my wrongs, never liking the dent it would cause in my pride and image. Didn't matter if the person was someone I'd known my entire life. In fact, those cases were the ones i dreaded the most. Digging deeper though, having known this often stubborn characteristic of mine, I should have also seen the depth it held that explained who I was. Always taking pride in being the best i could be, it was fear of being who i didn't wish to be that I was in denial of accepting. Thus resulting in the many times and moments of my life whereby insecurities could whispered in my head to their sweet content. The rest of me meanwhile in a state of contempt and disorientation, weakness and ruins.
  As a child, I long hoped my future self would be greater or perhaps stronger. I often fantasized that perhaps i'd come across powers or magic that might improve and uplift the reality faced. Such hope, such ignorance, such innocence. That child never knew that the truth  about discovering one's self; that the more you try to see, the more you realize that the demons of the world lie in you. Because temptation and fear are all too real, the battle between good and evil never far from home. 

  I recall those rainy days in my old home where I would sit in the gloomy living room without light or tv due to the signal. I was so very afraid, yet there was an odd wonder about the scene. It was as if it painted a surreal picture and the child in me simply wanted to hold onto that, despite how real and devoid of fiction it was. The bellowing wind against the sheers and curtains, creating peaceful ghosts of free motion. The pitter-patter of droplets against the concrete driveway's car that became background music to the scene. The beautiful majestic view of what little light made the raindrops on the garden become. Entranced and afraid of the dark; such a contradictory feeling, such a wonder.


  I used to think I was right. That though i had a lot to learn, though the times I didn't know or misunderstood would always be present and exist...I thought that I was right. I wanted so much to believe that I was on the right path and that these were mere obstacles in the path, that I forgot what the truth of reality was all together. I guess growing up taught me otherwise. 


  Yes, I am wrong in so many, many ways. Yes, I have allowed my pride to become my fall. Yes, I understand that there is much yet to learn. But no, I'm afraid I'm not going to regret my poor and unruly decisions. For they have made me what I am today and the person I am today although imperfect and very much still naive, has also come to understand that there is beauty in the world. Beauty that is magical, beauty that is hope.