Written from October 21, 2020 to October 25, 2020.
Jack Of All Trades, Master of None
When I was younger, I liked to pick grass and taste leaves. I enjoyed it so much because the leaves I ate tasted like pears, a fruit that I was always impartial to, unlike numerous others. In the end, the consumed pear and I will meet the same fate. I will be a gift to the soil, and it will thank me by growing wildflowers that burst forth with different colors. The idea of death has never sat well with me; I do not think it will be for a long time yet. But the idea of flowers blooming from me to remind someone else that there is still beauty in the world? That idea sits curled in a cozy armchair, snug and waiting for it’s time to meet the air.
I enjoy dancing as effortlessly as the breeze, rushing past branches reaching out their crude, spindly fingers that try to hold me back. There are always branches, no matter where I go, but branches are part of trees, and trees provide my breeze, my life. Sometimes I am most connected to the breeze when I am alone, but more often than not it is when I am surrounded by people I love. To know that I am capable of love is a gift I wish to share with the world, little by little, as I grow. Is it not incredible that we breathe the same air? I wish that we were all allowed to love unabashedly, more publicly, and more deeply. My love flows deeper, much like a crystal lake.
I am most like water when I am writing. Ideas, notions, concepts; they flow through my mind at a steady current, and that is when I feel best about myself. I tend to become dehydrated sometimes, though, when I am met with the unsureness regarding my future and what I will become. To best cope, I turn to the page. Whether delving into the worlds of Narnia and Harry Potter or scribbling half-coherent thoughts on lined paper, my thirst for happiness is often quenched. While I might not fit in at every future job, I know I will always have a place in the world of books and language. I never conformed to cliques or stereotypes, and I thought that was wrong. Somehow, despite that, I always found my place here, in the refreshing water.
But it is when I become fire that I feel the most passionate, most intense. It is a side of me not often displayed to the eye. True, I am commonly quiet and reserved, but I would not label those behaviors as a facade. To light, fire must first be provoked. My fire is not used as a source of weaponry, but instead as protection. Not raging red flames but instead a gentle mix of orange and yellow, much like the sun. The sun shines warm on the world, shielding its life from constant frigid temperatures, and in turn my fire shields those I care about from the ice the imperfect world throws at them. The phrase “take on the world” has new meaning in regards to my flame, because it does not waver so easily.
It is as if I am nothing and everything at once. Earth, Air, Water, and Fire. All the elements, left at my disposal for my heart, head and hands to accept and indulge in. Tools that allow us to reach beyond what we know and discover more about who we are. How foolish would I be if I were to refuse these ethereal gifts? Most are convinced that to use them, they must be kings and queens. As for me, I hope you will accept me as I am- jack of all trades, master of none.
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