all those rage, and i'm still here?

thirty eight

"mia carissima."

They gleamed through the distance,
Luster blinding amongst the masses,
Shining like diamonds in the seas of mediocrity,
Well-known individuals of intellect, talents, and beauty
Set on the stage where they are viewed with much adoration.

And I looked up, enticed.
I admired my reflection in a mirror I held in hand.
As I grasped the edges of my baby pink dress,
I lifted the fabric just above my ankles.
Carrying innocence and naïveté,
I raced toward what I thought was my destiny.

By the time I stepped into the spotlight,
I stumbled on the ground.
The mirror broke,
And the pieces etched delicate lines on my face.
Stones flew as I covered my injured face.
Hastily, I ran with intensified emotions,
My baby pink dress tattered,
Kissed by the earth's indelible touch.
I swore never to set foot there again.

For years, I became an apprentice of the shadows.
The wounds remained on my skin,
But the hurt I felt was nowhere near the pierce
Of being directly shot in the heart.
As I ripped a piece of fabric from my once baby pink dress,
It slowly turned gray.

I wrapped it around my skin,
The crimson color giving it life.
I kept myself hidden,
And albeit terrifying,
The darkness embraced me with a feather-like touch.

Truth be told, I felt much safer.
I tried blending in the backgrounds,
The passion in my heart, once ablaze,
I desperately fanned to keep dimmed—
Until it was gone for good.

I was filled with melancholy and regret,
Spent years in anguish and isolation.
I hated myself more than anyone else,
And I broke every mirror I passed through,
Terrified of the reflection I'd bore my eyes into.

I didn't know how it happened, but it did.
I thrived in the nighttime more than the day,
A night owl by nature,
Where my creativity shone through the lack of luster.

I became the deafening silence everyone avoided,
Embodied the intensity of my rage,
Hidden beneath a calm, tranquil facade.

I tried blending in the crowds,
Pushed myself amidst the chaos,
Yet often, I failed to conform.
Who knew that wanting to fit in
Would, in turn, exclude me completely from the masses?

I wasn't only far away from the crowd and that stage,
I was completely alienated and alone.
I traveled in my little bubble of solitude,
A huge pessimist masked as realism.

My once-innocence contorted into apathy.
I thought I only tried to be as bitter as coffee,
But it gradually became a personality.

I could only laugh at the darkest, sarcastic remarks,
Finding only a few things interesting.
My view of the world became almost unnerving.

And one day, I finally did it.
I brought myself a mirror I held in my hands,
And I finally looked at the reflection.
There she was—the girl I barely knew.

"mia carissima,"
I muttered,
"What happened to you?
What happened to the passion and purpose you wanted to pursue?"

I remembered the girl who liked seeing those
Who gleamed through the distance,
Their luster blinding amongst the masses,
Those who shone like diamonds in the seas of mediocrity,
Well-known individuals of intellect, talents, and beauty.

Now I despised that brilliance.
I took myself away from the geniuses,
Bonded with my self-doubt more than my capabilities.
Craved love, attention, and adoration,
And realized—
I was average.

And that was the conclusion.

But I could not let it end here, I suppose.
I looked at the broken rose-colored glasses,
Seeing the same innocence and naïveté.

That child in the same baby girl dress stood by me,
Giggling and holding my hand.
And now I see.

She became the fluctuations of the moon,
The oscillations of a pendulum,
The waves of the seas of the intensity of her emotions,
The chaos amidst her proclamation of balance and peace.

There was no trace of the child dressed in baby pink.
But either way, she's much more fearless,
Independent, bolder, and determined—
A trailblazer of the fate bestowed upon her.

She's now dressed in ebony—
A color she acquired through the touch of darkness
And as she opened her eyes to the cruel reality.

All of a sudden, she turned to the child who grabbed her hand,
Smiled—something she hadn't done in an eternity,
Knowing that the only glimmer
And knight in shining armor to save her
Is nonetheless nobody else but herself.

She, I, me—may not be the shiniest piece,
Perhaps far too imperfect and invisible,
And not much of adoration
In this stage called society.

But in the eyes of that child,
She believed in me,
And she held my hand,
And I looked up, enticed.
As I grasped the edges of ebony dress,
I lifted the fabric just above my ankles.
Carrying mistrust and doubt—
Yet the hope lingered,
As we both raced toward what I thought could be my destiny.

"in the count of one, two, three,"
She spoke,
And I opened my eyes.

I gazed back and forth,
Seeing a raised platform with intricate pieces,
Meticulously placed props and ethereal landscape,
And a velvet curtain—
It was a stage crafted for no one but me.

I looked at the mirror in my hands,
And she was unrecognizable.
She's strange,
Unenthusiastic,
Flawed,
Bitter.

Yet she was—
mia carissima,
The only girl I loved.
Despite baby pink being tainted by gray,
Nor colored entirely by ebony,
I realized
That I didn't have to be perfect,
I realized,
That the only love I have is all within me.

note: submitted this is school only for them to fuck up the layout. that honestly pissed me off a lot knowing i worked so hard for this.