When I was a little girl the good kids were separated from the bad ones. Is what I mean to say is that I watched to see who was left over as ‘unwanted’ when groups were picked. The teacher would announce the number each group should have and then we were all to make a choice. Who? Who should we align ourselves with?

I remember knowing that I didn’t want to be chosen by any group. I wanted to see how I fared with what was left over. I also wanted to be chosen by the group with the strongest standing of popularity, just because it meant I could be included if I wanted to be. Of course I wanted to be popular. To me it meant a likable identity. I’ve always wanted to be liked by everyone. I even believe it is possible. I should be liked by everyone. I’m a nice person…

Mostly.

If you were a fly on my wall of life I would smash you before you could buzz away to tell your friends the truth of who I am.  That is not to say that I have anything to hide. I simply do not want to be known for one moment or one choice. I am both a saint, and a sinner. Life is that battle, but I intend to only let one victor rule. I am super-hero, not a villain. This is blessing because I am the best at every part I play in life.  If I were a villain the world would cry forever because I would make them. That’s what villains do.

I am not fond of crying. I don’t like the sound of it. I also don’t like the faces it makes. People contort their expression when they cry until even the eyes are disfigured by red swelling. I much prefer making people smile and so it is that I make my best effort to turn every frown upside down.

MAY YOUR DAY BE FILLED WITH SMILES

I know that I can’t save the world from sadness. We are the creation of it. We are emotion. All emotion. It should go to show necessity. There is a need for sadness. It has a purpose. My questions then become, “How long should we hold onto it? Do we need to feel it always?”

I am the happiest when I am alone because there is no one I need suffer for. If I love you, I know your hurt as mine, your sin as mine, your hunger as mine, your mistakes as mine, your life as mine. Love is the guilt of not being able to save those who are somehow losing. “You need to help yourself first. Then I will reach out to assist.”

I’m thinking of the homeless I see sleeping on the street. I am thinking of the woman who stashes bottles of booze and the one who prefers to pop pills. Then there is the woman who allows herself to be beaten by her husband, or the one that wouldn’t have been raped if she had been sober. I myself was nearly raped because I chose to have wine at a business meeting. I remember my personal trainer telling me after, “You deserved it. You should have known better. Men are how they are. How much did you drink?”

I’m just lucky life has not killed me yet. That’s how I feel this morning at 7:59 am on a Sunday. I am thirty-eight years old and I am thankful to be alive. Some of my friends have already lost. Some are in the ground. Some are trapped in patterns of chaos, dysfunction and abuse. Some have been that way the span of always. Some will never make it out. Some are lifers to the death of any possibility except more punishment. Some people will hack off their own limbs to save the body from rot. Some will cut off a leg because they are trapped and it’s the only way. Some will fight until they take their last breath and some will never even try. Some will die with out living. Some people will lose at life.

I am not some people. Neither are you.