Teenage Veracity

stolen

You know how being underappreciated growing up affects you entirely? You'll always seek appreciation, obviously, especially for the things that you know you are good at and passionate about.

Well, I'm passionate about my ideas. They are my treasures. My idea speaks to my mind and heart. It's the best that I've got. It's the only thing I've got. It's the only thing I'm confident about. And for it to be taken away from me all the time—all the time—messed me up.

I was raised to believe that my ideas didn't matter. I was not always given the opportunity to speak my mind when I was a kid. I don't know why. I was young. But an unforeseeable factor just came along and paved the way for me to find my way to release all the stored ideas in my mind. You just can't help but involve yourself so that you can create something for people to witness.

I've finally accepted the gift of being creative. I have lots and lots of things in my mind to produce, create, direct, write, and say, and now that I've slowly gained the confidence to share everything, it is always being marked by others. It's just that, unfortunately, I can't defend my own idea. 

I can't own it. I let it slip from my mouth and let the others mark it as their own. They made it better. They made it wider. It's like I just lit the fire, but it's always them who keep it burning.

It's frustrating to have someone take something important away from you. Especially when you know you can turn that spark into an explosion. If only I could make it my own. I can't trust my voice to make it my own. It's not consistent. For the most part, it is my fault.

But how come everything is always taken away from me? I don't know why, and I can't even take it back. 

The elaborator is always the winner. The constructor is always the loser. It's the same game I've been playing all my life. Ideas that are always stolen. Stolen by the better, but it was mine. I never got credit for it. I never get credited for the things I contribute to. I want to get credited. It was mine first. It was in my mind first. How can you take credit for it? How can I not get credit for it?

It's always like this. Always. They're always taking advantage of my weaknesses. They know that I am not capable of it because I am scared. I am too scared to appear passionate about the ideas that I've constructed. It's scary to talk to people about things you are passionate about. Most people hate passionate people because most people haven't found their passion.

Maybe I'm too annoying for them when I share my best ideas. Maybe it's cringey how enthusiastic my voice sounds. Maybe I'm so excited that it makes my surroundings uncomfortable, which is why they're doing their best to neglect me. Maybe I turn into someone new when I'm passionate about the things that I love. Maybe they hate that version of me, which is why they don't want to give credit to someone who's annoying like me. 

Their pride won't let them have my way of getting the recognition I deserve. We are carrying the burden of their verdict because it's us who have the gift. The world should be in balance, and I hate how I'm suffering under the weight of it all.

It's always so close to me, but why can't I touch it? Why can't I get it? Why can't it just not be for me? How can it not be for me when I'm the one who made it? Why is it always touched by someone else? How can the universe deprive me of something that was mine? Why do they always get their first and last applause?

They are too selfish. They want to be recognized for something they didn't do, and they are fine with it. How come they are fine with it? How come they are satisfied with owning something that was not theirs to begin with? How come they forget about me?

It's so unfair. The powerful people will always be on top of their game because they controlled it, they influenced it, and when they made their move, I couldn't do anything but silence my mouth with a smile. 

I know I'm not better, but how can I get better if I'm always deprived of becoming the best? I don't know how many buckets of tears I've filled just because I can't do anything but cry it out. I want to take them back. I want to be recognized properly because my ideas are not for free.

Do you know what it feels like? It feels like a part of you is stripped, and when you are stripped, the first thing you do is cover yourself and not take your clothes back until you realize that you have no choice but to find other clothes to wear so that you won't stay naked. 

I may have no voice to take it away from you, but I'm going to make something that you can't easily strip. It may take a while, and before that, please take off everything that has my name on it. It was meant to be mine.