A lot of people can see the moon.
Most see it as a light in the night sky.
Some go to the extent of seeing it as it is. A planetary object circling the Earth. Dusty and gray.
Not many go as far as to see themselves upon it.
Not many try to experience it as if they were there, in the fine particulate, smooth between their toes.
Not many see themselves there, imagining the exact sort of smile that would spread across their face when they realized where they were.
Wondering wildly.
Kneeling down in that soft sand and inspecting it’s color and texture. Looking over their shoulder through the black sky to the moon sized Earth in their peripheral then out to the stars so clearly seen in the absence of an atmosphere.
When you are a person who has a mind meant for more, this universe is more to you than the majority and the majority of those you meet will inevitably call you crazy.
I was lost in it for awhile.
I felt more.
I tasted more.
I smelled more.
I experienced more in everything than most could even imagine.
Personalization + overactive imagination = PAIN
It was lonely, it still can be.
There was no one to teach me how to travel here because they couldn’t possibly show me a way they could never understand.
Their way wouldn’t work for me and they couldn’t see or feel as I did. They couldn’t pave my road.
So, I learned to fly over them.
The world as most know it wasn’t designed for my comfort.
Majority rules.
I turned inward, then outward, then every which way.
I’m comfortable now. Like an alien adjusting to a foreign atmosphere. Like a fish out of water that somehow survived.
I learned to live in my own skin and mind and morals.
I learned my limitations and strengths.
I’m lucky I got to learn it all. Many like me don’t make it here.
Judgement. Persecution. Ridicule. Because “they” don’t understand.
They can’t.
That’s ok.
It all hurt. All of it. Good and bad because it was too much for awhile.
Imagine living in this world and seeing the bad and actually putting yourself there and inside of them. Becoming the mother of a starving family or a child living in war.
There was pain every minute.
There were bombs shaking me in the night.
To harness the gifts I was given was a struggle.
To learn how to feel and sense and survive with this mentality was pain in the purest form.
I grew into it.
I outgrew a lot of it.
I’m growing into more.
I’m going to keep going. On my own terms. In my own time. By my own volition.
The will and wishes of others seemed too small for me. Their world is too small too.
But, here’s the beautiful thing, I don’t need it, or them. Not anymore.
Mine is brighter, bigger, fuller, and, I’m comfortable here.
Finally.
Hycaeit (Have Your Cake And Eat It Too) 