We Dare Be Brave [Group 2]
Sept 2, 2013 22:01:08 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Sept 2, 2013 22:01:08 GMT -5
[/color]{We are weaned from our timidity}
{In the flush of love's light}
{we dare be brave}
{And suddenly we see}
{that love costs all we are}
{and will ever be.}
{Yet it is only love}
{which sets us free.}
I grew up in a little apartment in the center of District Six. There was me, a squat boy for my age, my mother and father, and my mother’s father lived with us, too. We had three bedrooms, a bathroom, and a little kitchen that always smelled like burned toast. We had little photos on the walls with browned edges. Here and there my mother would trim the windows with soft yellow drapes. It was a happy little place, despite all the gray bricks and lack of color in our lives. I think a lot of parents do the best they can with what they have. It’s not that I haven’t heard the horror stories: the split up families, the abusive parents, the drunkards, and the like. I do say that I was lucky for having two that cared about me, and were there for me when the worst passed us by. They were my shield against the forces of the district, and I can’t think that without them I would’ve wound up mixing chemicals in some dead end job that I hated. They made it easy to understand that life could be better, if we stuck together.
Here and now I stand watching the rain come down in droves. The pitter-patter rings against the window. I watch the droplets collect and skitter down. If I believe in omens at all, I could have thought that this was enough to tell me that I should have cancelled the evening’s therapy. As it were, the thunder that illuminated the evening cast more light than the pathetic fluorescents above. It was good then that I didn’t believe in such nonsense. In fact the rain was nothing more than rejuvenation for our district. It washed away the smoke and dirt trapped along the gray buildings, and left us with a clean slate. While I wouldn’t have the stars to guide me this evening, I would have the gentle rush of water humming behind me. I turn from my place at the window to look back toward the couches. I’ve arranged them around the small coffee table. On it sits pieces of paper, and two boxes of wax crayons for drawing.
I used to hear stories at school about the boys and girls that didn’t have it as good as I did. Most of the time you could see it on their faces: the black eyes and bruises were a dead giveaway for trouble. I think it’s a tradition of the middle districts to hold everything in and gloss over the bad. We’re the type of folk to say hello, how are you[/color] even when the world is falling apart. It may be the accent that adds insult to injury. Oh, yah, yah know.[/color] I say that silence kills more than anyone can imagine. It’s not so much a painful death that most meet. It’s the silence that follows after having a world torn apart. See, these kids, they’re not old enough to handle the change without losing a part of themselves. They have to grow up too soon, so they lose bits and pieces as though they were a puzzle being put together too quickly. It’s a sadness that permeates, lasts, and exists far more than just during the games.
I like to say that change isn’t a bad thing. Everyone has to change, and has to adapt. We’re not static creatures. But change should never reduce you.[/color] It’s what happens all too often: a person faces a difficulty, and instead of growing and thriving, they shrink and wilt. To be reduced by change is to let your soul shrivel. It’s why depression hovers like a cloud. When you can’t see how wonderful you really are, and how precious it is to be alive at all, that’s change reducing you. I know it’s not easy. People might say I can’t relate because I never faced anything hard. How would I know how to get past hardship if I’ve never been through it myself? I spent a good while wondering about that and wondering if that there would be a place for me here if I couldn’t answer it. After all, who wants to take advice from someone that doesn’t know what the hell they’re talking about?
Tonight is about positivity. Super simple stuff. I like to build from a small little base, and work forward, rather than trying to start complex and pull back. From what I’ve gathered, the ones coming tonight need a gentle reminder that the world isn’t all terrible. I say that as though it were easy—I know how that can come across as tone deaf. I’ve resolved to try my best to be more of the teddy bear and less the punching bag. I grin and watch another flash of lightning. There’s that silly feeling of hope I get before another session starts. Whether or not it crashes and burns is less important to me than the fact that I’m doing something rather than sitting back and minding my own business. I take a seat on the couch and lean back. I listen to the rain against the window, and for the sound of footsteps in the hallway.[/justify][/blockquote][/size]
