Intricacies

Masterpiece

We're all so complex.

And it confuses me when people allow for one single moment, or mistake or event or instance of something tragic and unusual, to define them entirely and as a whole.

We are not made up of the things we've said and done, nor are we made up of the aspects we dislike about ourselves. We're not what others see us as, we're not what others think of us as, and we're not what people define us as. We're not made up of the mistakes we've made, we're not made up of what we've done in the past; what we've screwed up and shattered to pieces with our own hands and actions, nor are we made up of the things we do, the things we think, or the things we say.

We're not made up of any of that.

We're human, and we're made up of many things.

We're made up of skin and bones, bone and marrow, tissue and cells, blood and water, oxygen and carbon dioxide, squishy stuff and brittle stuff, limbs and nails, hair and flesh; we're made up of many things, and we were made to be the brightest of things. We're made up of inhales and exhales that mix and stir in the air, water and blood that we all share. We're made up of skin and bones that the each of us have, and hair and muscles and tissue and cells and so, so much more.

Our teachers tell us what we're made up of on the inside using red for arteries and blue for veins, purple for capillaries and pink for membranes; we're made up of so many different colors but even then, that's not all that we are. We are clean, blank slates with the smoothest of surfaces and the gentlest of edges; we're clean, blank slates and with every passing moment, every passing hour, every passing day, we're splattered with more and more color. And this color allows us to live and breath and create and learn, and leads us by the hand to take those trail of steps into the next day and the day after that. 

That's what we're made of.

We're made up of the tough things.

The tough things that allow us to sit and stand and walk and run; read, work, learn and write. We're made up of things that allow us to evolve into the person we are today; we aren't made up of things that want us to be like each other, nor are we made up of things that make us want to hate ourselves. We're made up of things, unique things and aspects, that define us. We're not defined by the thoughts people think, nor are we defined by the things people say. We are not what we hate about ourselves and we are not what other people dislike about us.

We are not any of that.

None of that.

We are humans; humans who started off as clean, blank slates of canvas and we give more and more color with each and every passing breath.

We're made up of so many different colors and memories and thoughts and questions; we're a complex, messy web of things, brilliant things, and we're splattered with paint throughout the entire duration of our lives.

We are humans.

We are a masterpiece.