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Pieces of my Pondering #1

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“Life is not what I imagined.

It is hard and harrowing. 

So many decisions, yet none are right. 

Do I saunter into the dark and end what little I have? 

Or do I remain light and carry such burdens that life has bestowed me? 

What is easier but what is more cherished? 

However there are more than two options. 

I could become another and flee the crime scene, leaving all of his behind.

Is there such a thing as repressing and still holding on? 

So many questions and so little answers.

If there is but one God, would he be able to solve these riddles? 

Could he show me the way? 

Will life grant me such kindness, such sympathy? 

The challenges, the blockades ruthlessly laid in my path to this point –

This cruel and unforgiving hand must have the sweetest roses laced upon its fingertips. 

Is that enough for me to go on? 

Will I have my fortunate stroke of serendipity? 

Or will I face the wrath of purgatory over and over? 

Abolished resolve so suddenly apparent in front of my face. 

Sticky sweat is pooling in my palms. 

The threat of the death of my passion – so vile, 

yet the reward is so enticing. 

What has changed?

Such simple words are flooding into my brain, 

not unlike all that I have heard before yet…

I find myself grasping onto something so fleeting, so profoundly finite. 

What decision will I make?

If it is to be left to the fates, as my gut remains quiet, 

Best to take a chance with the knowledge you have learned.”

  • Kiarra Taylor-Ouellet, Two Vials, 2018

I wrote this November 19th, 2018 as a part of a play I had written called ‘Two Vials’. It was a monologue from the main character, far too long to include in a performance. 

For a long time I had believed that when I was in highschool – I wrote better than I could ever hope to going forward. I doubted my skill, put expectations on it and never allowed myself to reach the bar I had set for myself. 

Recently I started gaining confidence, opening myself up to possibilities and hope that my voice, words, and art could be recognized, related to, and hold weight in some people’s lives. Call it vain, but I believed I had something to say. I still do. 

But now I have learned, with recent situations that can be described with words such as: disheartening, disrespectful, and deflating – that unfortunately, the world does not run off of kindness and respect. 

It’s a massive popularity contest.

I thought I could find an area in which this contest was not ran – at least not so intensely. I thought about art, because art relies on community. 

But the community only helps you forward when you look a certain way, act a certain way, or know people already.
Having lived in the same town all of my life, I have seen the communities we have. From the creative spheres, to blue collar – I have wandered. Although my intentions have always been good, I have been a negative force in this community before, destroying relationships and failing to take responsibility. I’m definitely not perfect, and don’t expect anyone else to be. 

All I want is for people to take responsibility for their impact on others and their environment, and apologize when things go askew. Like I learned how to do with time and pondering my affect.

But that feels like a monumental ask.
Everyone runs off of accusations, assumptions and impulse. Personal gain and greed. 

But I may be putting the bar too high. 

Are we, as humans, just like this?
I fought that mentality all my life, seeking safe spaces and people who wanted to grow with me. All I have found is betrayal, dishonesty, and conflict. 

I have been one to enact similar chaos with which has been put upon me – so maybe it’s my penance. 

Maybe I should have more patience and empathy for those who crossed me, buried me, or trampled me – but I can’t find it in my heart anymore. I’m becoming weaker to the negative impacts of this world and I feel it in my bones. I can’t keep up with the invisible boundaries and expectations others put on me. The judgment and criticism of everything I have done in my life, hidden behind closed doors only to be used to hurt and maim my self identity when it suits them. 

I just want the world to pipe up about what I’m doing wrong. 

But everyone muffles their whispers behind their shoulders, Using stares of intimidation and silent treatments as ammunition. 

I will not be the world’s practice dummy. 

I will present the spikes I have concealed out of fear of being ostracized when disrespected. No matter how vague. I will retaliate. I am tired of letting those who hurt me get away with their harm due to personal plights. I am a person too, shouldn’t I receive empathy and compassion? 

It’s so easy for those who are presenting themselves as non-intimidating beings, those who are naturally so. I have to struggle to be taken seriously no matter how I look. All because my features are sharp, and so is my wit. 

I am soul-tired. Exhausted beyond belief, out of spoons. 

What is the right path? 

If I felt this way in 2018 – now in 2024 – who’s to say it’s going to get better? 

I’m not trying to be the damper on hope, just calling attention to the hope of mine that has been dampened. 

I hope some of you can relate to feeling so alone in this world, all because you won’t put up fake walls and delusional masks. I’m with you until the end, even if we don’t find each other.