Expressions
By Lori MillerExpressions are the rarest form of true self; yet don’t let anyone see them for they will look at you strangely. Inside lies a bounty of unique beauty, but you must keep it hidden. It longs to be free yet is scared of how it will be seen. How can it stay caged, when everything else is allowed to come out to play? When can people see the truth? Never, it is weird and gross, and nothing extravagant to look at. Who can judge a person’s true beauty? Shouldn’t it be the person themselves? Apparently not, everyone else is the judge and are not very fair.
Blues, purples, greens, and reds all are colors that represent a part of me, yet I cannot show them without being looked down on. Why is it that people stare, or sneer when they walk past? I’d rather be me then something that is not real, and isn’t that what we are supposed to be ourselves and not worry about how other people perceive us? It is so hard though when you are constantly ostracized by your peers. I want to make my true self known, make it abundantly clear. But alas here come the critical jeers. How can one make them stop? Don’t they realize the damage that they’re dealing with their tongue? Do they care… Do they care? It would appear not. They live built high above other people only speaking when offending; only stopping when making others distraught.
I make my expressions known on the outside, and hear a countless number of jeers and jaunts. I walk with my head held high only knowing that they are naïve and it is not necessarily their fault. On occasion I find amusement in their stares and weird glances. For I know that my expressions are not bottled up, and that theirs are on the inside crying to be free. I like waking up to find the real person I am in the mirror instead of some fake or stranger staring back.
Is this a cultural matter in which I speak or one of great importance to others just like me? Others who do not bottle up these beautiful expressions on the inside, they realize that showing their beauty is for the outside and in.
Everyone has a different idea of beauty; some think that jewels covering from head to toe, or massive amounts of make up, can cover up what is hiding. The whole time what’s inside is dying, covered by some sort of expensive fake cover. What kind of a past, or evil are they trying to leave behind?Others would argue that these expressions are just ways to cover up and not really make you different. But they are ideas that run through your head; they come outside and settle and seem like they fit. Why do they have to be different, why can’t they be normal? Whenever you wander from those that are dearest, would that be when you feel that you might be the weirdest? When will people understand that who you are on the outside reflects who you are on the in, also that all of the things that we can accomplish are more than mere trends?
When all is said and done at the end of our journey, we as a people will be distinguished among others as being set apart from the crowd. I am proud to be called weird. I am proud to be considered a freak, because I know that while I am alive I will never be like the people I dislike. And as long as I’m breathing I shall remain an outcast to the ones that will never understand, yet as long as I know others who continue down this same road I travel, I know that it will not all have been in vain.