Help

by

so I’m scrolling through the post’s tagged ‘help’, i thought I’d find things about death or divorce or rape. but maybe it’s become an  old fashioned notion that those are the things that people need help with and not body image or weight or anything that used to be considered un-important. I’m touch typing looking outside my window. Dozens of birds just flew past, the sky is clear blue and the sun is rising. In the near distant view i see building tops from the city with red lights. they’re blue from here. i hear birds tweeting and see seagulls floating around. a bright red dress stands out on a clothing line against the bright lush green trees and the baby pale blue background. all of this within the layers of concrete of where i live. words describe a beautiful place. but here’s the thing, they’re just words. words can be pulled and crushed and twisted. yet we still believe what they choose to reveal. put the minor details on a pedestal and make them stand out from the crowd of great things. this is how people work. whether you admit it or not there is something inside you that has some sort of prejudice and/or racist spark and you can not deny it. you’re stuck with one or the other forever because you’re human. you’re not perfect. see here’s the thing, for a minute there i could have been describing the Buckingham palace but the word. the one word, ‘concrete’, distorts the whole image completely. and i’m just talking about a building. now picture this one word being used on a person. seems like they relate. maybe these new buildings in the city represent the people in them. they’re glass. thin, and see-through and delicately damageable.  now get rid of the concrete buildings and reduce them to glass. strip them down till they’ve got squat. now think about places that aren’t so pretty. things are never as they seem. look. dig deeper till you find the truth in what you hear. twist words back. put back together crushed pieces and build a concrete wall so you can’t be shattered like a single glazed glass frame. or don’t bother searching for truth. because to hold so much of the truth takes courage. and i’ve learnt it the hard way. i’m still searching for something, something has always been missing from my life and i can’t seem to figure out what. but i don’t need help finding it. if i want it that bad i’d find it myself so maybe i’m not as dedicated as i’d like to believe.

but then it’s too late and you’re gone.