Being Real

            I’m totally stressed and tired out right now for no apparent reason, send help.

    Being real is hard.
            I look at other bloggers, writers, and people in general, and they all look so cool, like they have it all together. It makes me wonder what vibe I give off when people are reading my words…

            I mean, if people read my posts and imagine me to be a sloppy mess of a teenager in desperate need of the prick of a magical spindle, or a bite from a poisoned apple (a hundred year nap, that is effortless? Yes, please), or for all math and science books to be burnt ASAP, they’d be right! 

            But the fact that anyone might think something other than that ^ or “Sheesh, that girl loves books,” totally blows my mind.

            I mean, I’m just me. Gray Marie, a fourteen-year-old girl who has a passion for creative things. A girl who believes that Jesus Christ died on the cross to save her and everyone else from sin and eternal damnation. A girl who would almost rather face a zombie apocalypse than that test or quiz for school!


            And I don’t know how I could ever be anything else.

            I still struggle though, and I’m sure you do too, because sometimes in the rush and bustle of life, we lose ourselves.  

            The tragedies. The sadness. The depression. The fear. It’s just so easy to let it all slip away, like sand falling between the cracks in your fingers. Going, going, gone.

            It’s maddening. One second you’re so sure of who you are and why you’re alive, and the next you’re unsure.

            Then comes the crippling anxiety. Are you still you? Or have you changed completely? Do you still have a voice that needs to be heard? DO PEOPLE ACTUALLY CARE AT ALL ABOUT WHAT YOU CARE ABOUT?

            The isolation sets in, and you feel like you are all alone—the only person in the universe who is like this.

            You’re not. I promise. And I want you to know that, I want everyone to know that.

            A girl once asked me why I talk about myself the way I do,  how I laugh at myself and the mistakes I’ve made.

            It’s because I’ve learned that it’s better to laugh at yourself, and because I want people to feel less alone.

            I know how it feels to be lonely. I know how it feels to hurt. I know how it feels to be an outsider.

            Sometimes I still find myself trying to keep secrets. I want to hide the ugly side of me, to erase my imperfections. I don’t want people to see the flaws that I have.

            I have realized something important though, I have wasted so much time trying to hide my mistakes, that I have neglected learning how to fix them.


            Being real is hard, it means being brave. It means admitting the fact that I’m not perfect.

            No one is perfect.

            I’m a mess. You’re a mess. We’re all one big disaster.

            But you know what? That’s okay. Every good story has a hero, but if everyone in the story was perfect, who would the hero save?

Whew! I hope you enjoyed my rambling, and my very Christian themed post, which I didn’t intend to be Christian themed... *shrugs* this is what happens sometimes when you’re a Christian writer, it sneaks into your writing! XD
What do you think about being real?
Happy Writing,