Mavry Potts
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I have a tendency of writing when I get stressed. Spilling out all my emotion into something that no one could possibly understand. Most of the time it’s a nonsense poem seeming to be talking about one thing to most people, but meaning something entirely different to me. I’m actually very glad I found out I could do that, because before I knew poetry was actually not all that bad I would try to sing and dance to get rid of stress. As soon as I started writing I realized how stressed dancing actually made me. Up until a year ago I took five dance classes a week and I had a headache by the end of most of them. I would freak out when I saw the girls on pointe because even then I knew they would never move me up. Something about me just wasn’t pointe material. I left dance though. Another thing I recently quit was choir. A rather innocent thing to quit you would think. See I’ve been doing a choir forever and I can tell you that the one thing I’ll always remember from choir is the people. The whole atmosphere always made me uncomfortable. Sure I love singing, I’m pretty good if I do say myself, but I just didn’t like the people. I’ve gone so far from the topic of writing at this point. See what I’m trying to say is that over the past two years I really have discovered myself. I went from being a dancer and a singer two very extrovert things to being a writer and a theatre techie two more introvert things. I’m not saying I’m an introvert, I’m really not. I just don’t want as much attention to be on me. The less attention there is on me the less stressed I am and the more likely I am to succeed, then I can handle the attention.
I'm undeserving of this. I look at the views on this blog everyday and I just don't get it. I'm undeserving of this. I don't get why you guys feel the urge to read what I'm writing. I don't even like reading it sometimes. It's not like I can figure out why you read this stuff anyway. Not like any of you comment. I'm a starving writer. I get writers block so often that the only way that I get these posts out is by just randomly clicking keys on my keyboard. I feel forced and stressed daily to be a certain way. I refuse to be that way. I create characters out of nothing draw them out in my mind viewing them from every angle every way possible. So I guess in a way I'm trying to thank you. So thank you!
The world is pulling me under. Suffocating me in its grasps. In one second I might die or succeed in everything. I don't know where I'm going. I feel trapped. I don't understand why I can't understand. Why is up all of a sudden down? What is the reason behind this madness? Where am I to go after the fact? Who pulls the strings? Am I just a puppet? Please don't let me drown. I need to see tomorrow. I don't understand why. I want to live a real life. I drag myself down. I can never live a real life. I feel trapped in a circle. Over and over I will fall into the void. I'm dead inside, yet I'm still functioning. I'm still alive to you. I am trying to survive, the apocalypse. The apocalypse has already begun. We are already losing and no one is doing anything about it. I fear for the ones who come after us. They will not be able to live with what we let them. So I fear for everyone. We can live, okay.
What's the point of having the power to make a difference if we never lift a finger. We criticize the people who try, but never try ourselves. I guess you might have a reason to criticize them if you've been in their shoes and done better, but I doubt you have. Sure you have the freedom of speech, but your speech bears no fruit to make it worth it. You blabbler away all day with nothing acomplished from it. So what is your purpose? If all you plan to do with your life is criticize other people's efforts. So maybe once in your life maybe you should lift a finger. Speak to what you believe and then actually take a step towards accomplishing it. You have the power to make a difference, you just never tried.
I'm sitting down now and forcing myself to write. I want to let the rage out and confuse myself. I want the words to spill out and form a masterpiece. I know that this won't be pretty. I know this is choppy, but what else can I do. I'm a minor detail in this whole world. I'm just a little speck of dust compared to the whole universe. My actions might seem insignificant, but they really aren't. Think, what can happen from one action? Imagine how many people you'll meet in your life, you affect all of them. You might feel insignificant some times, I know I do, but we do more than we think. Many will have children, and those children will have children. You are the source of thousands of humans. You are not insignificant, you really aren't. That woman you just smiled at, just decided that maybe the whole world isn't evil. That man you held the door for, felt for once that he wasn't invisible. That little boy you passed the ball back to him, would have run into the street if you hadn't. That little girl you just gave a piece of chalk, will be a famous artist. That baby you started at, for a little too long, will remember your smile as the first time someone loved him. We don't notice how our little actions really affect the lives of others. Just know they do.
To you, I'm a writer, a writer that just screams and yells. I'm a writer who just screams and yells about things you have an opinion in. Our opinions differ, you disagree with most of the things I say. I might be able to sway you, push you towards me, but one false move you go crawling back to your fantasy. I believe what I say is the truth, that I speak the rhythm of the earth under our feet. That if you were to lift off this earth you would finally see what I've been trying to say. We're small meaningless things we'll all just float away and die someday. The glorious thing about us is that we don't give into that thought we push to excel and make our pointless lives not so pointless. We don't care that we're small, we all know we can be someone. That the people of the world can push you down or they can pull you up. We all realized as a child that we could be whatever we wanted to be. I could be a superhero, an astronaut, a fireman, a ballerina, a teacher. What the adults said didn't really matter, for we were the next generation, they were the past. We didn't have to be held to the stereotypes, girls could be anything, boys could be anything. They might try to hurt us, try to push us down, but we could stand up against them and lead the revolution. Every generation realizes that, and every generation starts another revolution. We are the future, we make the future, and our hand leads the future.
When I was younger I was one of those people who was like, I want world peace blah blah blah. Now at my current age I see that world peace is a relatively stupid thing. See if the world was at peace, yeah everyone would be safe, but it also means there are basically no emotions. For the world to be at peace people can't be sad or anything like that. Imagine that, you just don't have emotions, fun no longer exists, it's not as happy and joyous as you thought, right. If the world was at peace think about how many people would lose their jobs, wait, who would need jobs if the world was at peace. Creativity would cease to exist for everyone is equal. For the world to be at peace there cannot be difference of opinions. If the world was at peace just think of all the things you would lose, is that really worth the few things you would gain?
Alright, I want to make it clear to both you and me. To me you don't exist, you're a faceless creature. I wouldn't expect you to think any more of me. How are you to know that I exist? How are you to know I'm not just some android typing this down. Now if we meet in real life you would believe I was real, right? You can see and touch me I'm real, right? I should believe the same about you, right? I should, yes I should, but as expected I don't. See how am I supposed to know if I'm delusional and I'm not creating you? How are you supposed to know that you aren't the only human? What if none of this is real, just a figment of your imagination? What if you are the last human alive and you passed out and your mind created the perfectly fantasy world? Now your reason for this being false might be something like why would I want all these problems? I have an explanation for that too, see our problems nowadays are pitiful and nonexistent to your future self and in some ways you enjoy them. You find your current life simple and ideal and all you ever wanted. There is another question that arises, why won't I wake up? Well maybe when you passed out you died, so you won't ever wake up. Honestly there are too many faults to this hypothesis for it to be valid, but it still brings up the question, "What if?"
It's been a while since I've just sat down and wrote. Since I've just blocked out everything else and wrote. To rant about how bad life really is. It's been a while since I've been able to tell the truth. The words "I'm fine," always seem to escape my mouth. The worst part is people accept it. They're all okay with me just saying, "I'm fine," and no one treads farther. I don't have a clue why not. Whenever someone says something so bland to me, I automatically suspect that it isn't true. I always try to force the truth out of them. No one is ever just fine, or good for that matter; those words are used as excuses and costumes to cover the truth. I can't truly explain what every single person means when they say it because everyone has their own pot of troubles brewing. I can't relate to anyone. Honestly, I'm not the best at that, but I still try. The problem with trying to relate to someone is it hurts them more, and more. It's like stabbing someone in the gut and thinking they'll be okay. You might believe that trying to relate helps -- and I guess it might with some people — but it has never worked for me. I guess what I'm trying to say is just because when you ask someone, "How are you doing?" doesn't mean they will tell you the truth. Dig a little deeper and it might do you both some good.
Life, to most of this world's occupants, is torture. It's an endless battle between yourself and an unknown force, and right when you thought you've won you're swept off your feet again. I feel like so many people have come to know this as the only way to live; so many people believe there is no other way. I say no to there being no other way. Why do I have to let myself be pushed around? Why can't I stand up for myself? There really isn't that much holding me back beside fear, and anyone can conquer fear. Sure you might think that statement is false, but you can, in fact, conquer your fears. Maybe me having so much faith in myself has something to do with my age. Maybe as I grow older I will fall into conformity like everyone else. I'd like to think I won't; I'd like to think I have the strength to support my beliefs. I don't know what will happen, though, I'm not a prophet or anything. So as I was saying I don't believe we, as humans, have to live life with that constant weight of fear on our back. There is a way for us to conquer this fear and live life actually alive.
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Mavry PottsPosts every Monday and/or Wednesday Archives
December 2017
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