Part one of my life really started when I didn’t know how to interpret my gift, and sometime before I could embrace the unreal, my gift seemed like a curse. My imagination grew as fast as seasons change, and before I could grip a pencil or write my name, I knew I was different than any other girl. The amount of hours I would spend talking to myself in the mirror, or the amount of time I would spend thinking my whole life had a video camera in front of me. My imagination grew faster than I could embrace it, and before I knew how to read, I knew how to lie, not just small lies, big lies that would manifest into a physiological chain of events, all before I even knew what gift I had. As time could tell, my lies became stories that would entertain my mind for hours at a time, the trouble I got into for the lies I would make, would turn into the stories of the reaction that I would encounter, and my imagination would soon turn into a life long present, to see stories unfold before they were even thought out. It wasn’t that I saw myself creating lies, it was that, I saw myself in the situation of someone seeking the reactions of others. My lie that landed me straight into a parent teacher conference ended with Mr. Papas telling my parents that my imagination was too big for my little mind to handle, and his reaction to my lies, was simple, they were not lies, I was a story teller, one that would eventually learn that my stories belonged on paper, he knew I didn’t live in a basement with 8 siblings that I cared for, he knew the make believe land I came from was none other than a vivid imagination that I created, and most of all, he knew something before I even knew, I would live my life and leave my path through my creations of words. At a young, when writing your name 10 dozen times to learn how it’s spelled, I had something in me that was far out of reach, and my stories would only bloom to a world of questions, and not having friends would encourage my imagination to believe, I really did exist in my made up fantasy of a land far beyond this life.
I recall my stories as if it were memories of my life events, I could trace the path of where I was when I was to be here. I found myself struggling in life because I couldn’t understand how I lived and existed in my mind, and this real life, this real world, was a figment of a bad imagination. You wouldn’t be surprised to know when I learned how to write, I had more stories than I did pages, it wouldn’t surprise you to know I was considered an author before I knew what publishing meant, my first book, my first criticism my first touch of words to paper, how I chose every word specifically to create what my mind saw. I was on my way to a path lead on paper and written by my hands, for my hands would take me to see things that were real for me, places I could finally show people who thought them to be lies, a passion I found and the one thing that made me the happiest girl in the world, to create my world, my life, all my expeditions and have the ability to share it with whom ever believed in my lies. I still couldn’t digest this gift of mine to be fiction, because it wasn’t at all, it was and is as real to me as it is this life in the flesh. I hurt, I cried, I laughed, I didn’t understand, because to me, my real world was on paper now, not the flesh that I am, my greatest adventures were flowing on pages, not in real life. I was a sickly child, looked weird, didn’t have much of friends, couldn’t do the activities that normal kids could do because I was always sick and my mother feared for me, when kids were playing outside I lived my life through a bottle of get well medications and a pencil in my hand, that for the life of me couldn’t sharpen as fast as I could think and write.
Everyone one knew I was different, I had something in me that kept giving even when I wasn’t giving anymore, I had ambition to follow myself to every last sentence to know what would happen in my own stories. At night when all the little angels were sleeping, this little angel would wake up and my mind would open to a whole new world, for a moment in my life that lasted years, I had my whole creation in the silence of my dreams, and how I loved it there. The weeping willows told stories of our kind, of our creators, and of all the creations, they were the ones we loved that left us who were creators of our kind, they would tell the stories as we would sit around as if a camp fire. Everything was made of sense, of hope, of faith, and of our minds, if we could see it, we could be it, and it grew in me, until there wasn’t anything left to grow me, then to grow up. I suffered the biggest draw back of ones life time, I had to learn to separate the fiction from the non fiction, and I had to learn to pick up the pieces of a shattered little girl to make sense that maybe I wasn’t as little as I thought myself to be anymore. I was a young women that lost her innocent mind to the fondling of a man who was said to be a friend of the family. Hate grew in my heart, and I wasn’t prepared to handle a life I didn’t understand, I learned to fail this life before I learned to give it a chance. Life went by faster than I known it to be, and I couldn’t make a story or a lie to change what came of it.
I learned at a very young age, life is only as grand as you allow it to be, and if you don’t allow the grand, then you will live to not understand the meaning behind every step you leave behind. I learned the hard way that no could mean yes to someone who didn’t care to hear you. I skipped the whole part of my fairy tale, when the person who made me smile, broke me to tears, and placed indescribable pain in the pit of my stomach after I was only but a little girl. A near perfect score that would place my crazy made up lies of a story into a triple digit iq, before I was even old enough to vote. That was still a part of my life I didn’t care to understand, because writing made all the hurt in the world go away, but I woke up to the cry of a fearful child who didn’t understand his new world. I couldn’t understand how not knowing nothing at all of this life made me a mother to a child, scared and left with words that didn’t make sense on paper anymore, my stories were over. I was taken down a road that I didn’t know was ahead, I should have been lost but through the mist of knowing I had a little someone inside me, I vowed to protect that little imagination for as long as I lived. Though the mist of all my new surroundings, I threw myself into what I thought was a non fiction story, that soon would turn to be my new fiction. Just like on paper I didn’t give up, I went where my characters would go, even knowing that I might not know where they went until they were already there. To my surprise my new story made mistakes, got taken advantage of and learned that most men are just as crazy as there own mothers. That didn’t stop me from looking for my ending, with 2 imaginations in each hand, I made smiling easy, I made it all the way to the top with them and only me, for our 3 imaginations would now be impossible to unravel. You wouldn’t be surprised to know school came so easy, so very easy that I found myself with more degrees than I could use in a life time, and you wouldn’t be surprised to know I became very important to people who were very important in this life. I stood at the top of everything I didn’t imagine or write our plan, and I stood finally happy as I made my words to be my own story. This life didn’t hurt me anymore, I wasn’t scared anymore, I didn’t fear, I didn’t blush, and I learned I was a woman of many strengths and many gifts, and this time instead of being new to the ideas, I embraced them to see where it could take me. Only 3 things that mattered to me, mine, his and her imagination, everything else was just a plus in my story.
I didn’t live an invisible life, I kept on making new memories, learned something new everyday, lost something everyday, but enjoyed every moment. I played my life as fluent as a pianist. I didn’t care about what people thought of me, I had so much of this world to explore and so much time to teach my imaginations to grow, that everything has and will be as perfect as I would write my story to be. I met my match while sorting through my imagination, and just when I thought no one was interested, I found a friend that shared my same fictional life, her and I will always be the story that never ends.
Shortly my life is still the story that never ends, even for a moment of time as I became that sickly girl with needles pinned in my arm, a familiar feeling I knew. Stories emerged from the new stories and new paths I would take, poems were created, thoughts were fondly gathered, as I thought my 2 imaginations would be the only thoughts left behind for me in this world. The story wouldn’t end here, I fought as the last warrior standing on an empty battle field, I fought tears, I fought fears, I fought pain, I fought and lost pieces inside me, and even then I refused for my story to end. I had tears in my eyes that showed me that this life is just as real as the ones I made, I hurt, I cried, I yelled, I feared, I had pain in every vein that ran through my body keeping me alive. I thought I lost my faith, I thought I was empty handed, I thought my pen would finally run out of ink, I lost myself, only to find that I really wanted to live in this life of flesh, and through the imaginations of these 2 amazing little beings, my real life became my new found glory.
Being deprived from all the good around me that I was relentless to see with my eyes open, I learned to fill my heart back and not be afraid of what scared me the most. Allowing me to open doors I didn’t know I closed, allowing me to see the scars because I finally lived not existed. My painful decisions that I thought was the best choices for my life, allowed me to realize material things wouldn’t save me from all the hurt I should have let myself feel. The first thing that ever hurt my 2 little imaginations was knowing this imagination of mine was fading and scared, it was the first time I couldn’t imagine myself out of this world, it was the first time my imagination wasn’t on my side. It was a time I would learn to allow my imagination to be my faith and ask for help, it was a time my 2 little imaginations would imagine my imagination to survive in this life. With every beat in my life, I wanted to imagine with them, but tears fell before I could believe I’d be okay. It was the first time they ever saw me scared, the first time they thought we shouldn’t live in a place that doesn’t really exist, they told me to fight with everything I had until I just couldn’t fight anymore, and they promised me that they would remember every story we made together and not to be afraid, to just let it be if I couldn’t fight. My word did I fight, every day that shouldn’t have been, and through the time I had all my prayers answered, I found what this life means for me, I found how much I love this life, and how much I would do to stay in this life. I learned to accept what and who I am, and that everything happens for reasons to come, sometimes reasons that wouldn’t make sense.
Through my fears, my tears, my pain, I found my other half, and he is the answers to all my questions that I had, all the hurt and pain I thought men were made of. He came in just as scared as me, and saw me for what I saw him as, the piece that was missing. I was afraid my 2 little imaginations would be separated and would have in their heart a piece of hurt that only man could make We finally found someone who would set our imaginations free into a light of existence, and help us believe faith is just a prayer away. Through his words his prayers and his tremendous strength he had to hold all 3 imaginations up, he vowed to go through the end of this story with us. He’s all I ever needed to teach me more than I thought I knew, and he is all we needed to have someone to hold us up when we lean, that hand to help us up when we fall, and that laugh we need to make all of life’s trials humorous. So close to having everything, I learned my fear is real, my fear exists, my pain is real and my words have always been a never ending story of a life long imagination. I may have it all, at least all my prayers answered.
Never take what you can’t give, and always give presents that come from your gift, for the real gift, is, once you give, it keeps giving. I can’t say I understand it all, but I can say I understand a lot more standing from where I stand. I got more than I bargained for, I got 4 extra years, 4 extra years that I would have missed, so I guess the most scary thing now, is to not know what I will miss. But I know what I will remember, don’t take life for granted, don’t take one smile with out giving one back, don’t doubt what isn’t intended for you to understand. I believe in happy endings now, I believe I’m exactly where I am supposed to be, I believe I have more than I had with my hands empty. I understand this life of flesh is just a life of flesh, for it’s a stop to where we belong, and even if my story must end here, I’ll have so many more when you see me next time. I love my 2 little imaginations, I am there gift that will keep giving, as they will keep giving what I leave them. A perfect life of laughter is what I shared with my 2 children that will not understand what’s to come, but will understand this in-perfected life we all must have, but the one thing they will have is to see perfect and great in all this chaos. So miss me they will, miss them I will, hurt we shall but pain we will not fear, and fights we will give to our battles, and in the end we win either way, because we never give up to lose…
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