The Ideal

Upon reaching a new, more hopeful phase of my life, some self-contemplation seems both productive and inevitable.

The Ideal

The ideal world would reward good, honest people.

The ideal world would allow those who treat others well to also be treated the same.

The ideal world would give every child a sturdy home, a loving family, a sense of wonder and joy.

No one would grow up too fast,

No one would be isolated,

No one would ever feel unloved.

The ideal world would give everyone a fair chance.

The ideal world wouldn't destroy people's hopes and dreams before they ever had the chance to dream them.

No one would go hungry,

No one would be homeless or abandoned,

No one would lose sight of hope.

The ideal world is not this world; this world can be cruel, heartless, mean; can destroy hope and dash dreams before they're even breathed into being.

People die young.

Children go hungry.

Dreams are discarded in favor of much harsher realities.

You know this; you live in this world; you've seen its darkness.

When you were a child, there was a veil. It concealed this darkness from you, only to eventually be pulled away as time passed, and as hours turned to days, days to weeks, weeks to months, and months to years.

I remember the moment I realized I wasn't a child anymore.

There isn't always a moment exactly. I find that there are multiple moments, multiple occurrences through which you begin to understand that the world is dangerous.

That your room isn't always safe,

That someday your life will end,

And that bad things can happen whether you are good or not.

When I wasn't a child, I was afraid to leave the house.

When I wasn't a child, I carried pepper spray to gas stations.

When I wasn't a child, my parents and I didn't get along anymore.

When I wasn't a child, I nearly ran away from home.

When I wasn't a child, things changed: the world wasn't bright and full of possibility anymore, my dreams weren't tangible, and everything was dark, and I was afraid,

I was so afraid.

So afraid of failure

Of loneliness

Of being unlovable.

Afraid that I would remain unheard

And unaccepted

In this cruel, uncaring world.

I nearly gave up so many times,

I thought it would be easier to leave, to be done, to stop everything,

It was too much for me, too much, too much, too much...

But in this world, even in the dark behind the veil, there's still a chance for sunlight to stream in. It's not easy to find, especially once you've seen how dark the darkness can truly be. You have to try. You have to walk through the darkness to find the light within it. Sometimes it takes longer for some people than others. Sometimes you'll find the light, then lose it again.

Right now I can feel the light.

The darkness still looms behind me and all around me, but with my hands I can reach out and touch it, feel the warmth radiating from it. It hurts sometimes to hold; sometimes I don't feel like I deserve to have it, and touching it will sting my skin. When this happens, sometimes I let go, and I have to find it again.

Right now, I am safe.

I see the light in the smiles on the faces of my closest friends,

I feel it when I'm performing, when I'm writing, when I'm listening to music,

I hear it when my girlfriend laughs, and when she says "I love you,"

I taste it in the meals I share after classes,

I hold onto it when I feel alone, and I remember it when the darkness tries to take it.

It isn't easy, and it isn't always constant,

But in this unideal world,

It's all I can do.