When I think of what brings me so much purpose in this life, I think of the times where I was truly at peace: when people show me who they truly are, when I show others who I truly am. This has presented itself through my writing, performance, listening to other’s stories (i.e. my personal storytelling class), etc. I also like to see the poetry in things, making art out of the darkness. I enjoy making other’s smile, of making sense of my twisted times.
I really enjoy listening to other people’s stories… I remember reading chicken soup all the time, searching for secrets that resembled my own.
I fall in love with people’s stories.
I lose myself in their eyes, recognizing their soul as kin to mine.
As I hear them spill, to me, the secrets that they forgot were even buried, I think to myself,
“It’s been such a long life without you, my friend.”
When they become unrecognizable to them self,
Covered in shame
Clothed in despair
I want ever so badly to hold them
To show up for them
And show them that the same shame, the despair, aren’t the truth of who they are
Of who I am too