I remember, once, long ago,
A little girl was put in trial, by order of The Dictator.
Not a specific one, like Mussolini, or Stalin, just someone who had power, and used it viciously due to their own fears.
I remember being surprised by the refusal to let her tears drop, as she was berated for her crimes by the prosecutor, even though we could all see the shininess of those tears in her big, vulnerable eyes, she clenched her jaw and fisted her hands and kept her pain inside.
The prosecutor ranted and raged, while the jury was afraid to get involved, and jeered along at the court of fools, and the judge was, for all intents and purposes, quite absent, and so the little girl did all she could to stay strong.
The crime was atrocious: caring too much about something her majesty had little regard for, and in doing so, forgetting to dedicate an hour to fetching and carrying for her Grand Highness Supreme.
The defense, a weak man under the face of such extreme pressure, caved, and suggested to the little girl that she should just admit guilty, and take the punishment: telling her greatness how awful a human being this little girl was, for neglecting to do a simple task (A point that, truthfully, the prosecutor had taken her loud, drowning voice and drilled into everyone's brain), and to let her tears show, to show everyone how weak she was.
This little girl was all alone, and clearly feeling humiliated and distraught. But still, even when brought before the court of fools, she did not let a single tear fall.
There's no shame in crying, when one has a reason.
It's ok to cry for another, and for yourself, and for your losses. Sometimes, it's even ok to cry just to cry. But crying from humiliation, would prove weakness, and even the little girl knew that weakness was never an option.
The jeers and laughter of the oily court of fools struck something inside that pigtailed child, and she refused to give in.
"Break that stubbornness, little one, and her majesty may be merciful." Oozed the defendant. "Just give in."
"Never." Was the nonverbal reply, issued in the folding of her arms across her tiny, hollow chest.
I have never forgotten that little girls last look, and I know, even when I become so old I can no longer tell right from left, I will never forget her strength.
How dare you
How freaking dare you
You're supposed to be kind
You're supposed to care about me
And even though we can see right through your fake smile,
Don't dig yourself an even bigger pit
And insult me like that.
You knew what you were doing,
And even if we hadn't been there,
That's still not ever an ok thing to say.
And I freaking love him, okay,
You have no right to go and say that to me.
Because, it wasn't like that. It wasn't like that at all.
I was trying to make it easier,
But you had to go and tick me off,
And so now I was angry at you when I should have been thinking of Him.
You're doing your job really well.
A+ for you, sister, A+.
You're checking off all of the boxes, but never seeing the girl underneath.
When I grow old,
And I pass,
I want to be remembered for helping others,
For not being afraid to be alive,
For dancing in the rain.
When my grandchildren gather around my feet,
I want them to know not to hold themselves back from what they love.
I want them to love life, like I do,
I want them to dance in the rain with me.
Some people say that dancing in the rain is weird,
And maybe to them it is,
But it gives me joy,
Just like laughing with friends and family,
Just like reading a great book,
Just like the cool breeze on a burning day.
I wonder what I will look like in decades,
Once I have experienced more of life,
And the one think I know I don't want to lose is my grin,
And the one thing I will not mind gaining are the smile lines around my eyes.
When I am old,
When my joints creak and my bones ache,
I want to remain myself, now and forever.
I am invisible.
The world walks by me without seeing,
While I am forced to watch it turn without me.
Even those who normally laugh with me,
Have forgotten me,
Even those who normally smile with me,
Have forgotten me.
I was once this way, before,
But then I found my voice,
And with it, I found my friends.
But every time,
I have a nagging feeling,
Like no matter what I do,
No matter how loudly I fight to be heard, to be noticed,
If I am silent, the world will forget me.
I try to speak up, on my invisible days,
But no matter what, I say it wrong.
And in doing so, become more unseen.
The reason why I fight so hard to be heard,
Is because I fear going unheard.
For then I am alone,
For then I have no purpose,
For then am I Invisible.