Story Cafe

My feelings tug on my heart like a frantic sailor tugs on the rope of his only sail to keep his boat afloat. The waves around him crashing and the storm seems to continuously consume him. The lightning strikes but he refuses to give up, he keeps fighting the wind and rain to get his sail to its peak, but despite his continuous effort, the sail is violently torn in half and the boat starts to tilt. The boat tries to grip the water to stand upright again but loses its hold and falls to its knees one last time. The feeling of defeat and knowing that there was something that you could have done to make the situation better is a bitter and nasty feeling. It leaves residue on your heart like after you peel tape off of a hot surface. It is sticky and disgusting and the only way to rid of the situation is to adhere more tape, or scrub the surface. The question then becomes not of what to chose, but of how hard you are willing to work to heal the wound, or clear the tape. Yes, it may be metaphorical, cheesy, and pretentiously stupid, but its a question of life we often regret to think about. We tend to take the easiest route possible, not defining ourselves by our work ethic, but our lack of time management, preparation and organization. Granting anyone in a higher position, or even lower for that fact an opportunity to take you out of your position like yesterdays garbage. One still goes to ask though, how we can let others define us, when our own definition of who we ourselves are is determined completely by immoral and unethical standards, creating a false sense of knowledge and self-actualization. But then if we were to deviate from the standard of what seems to be "normal" what would we consider abnormal? A girl with a size 9 waist being told she is too overweight to ever be loved by a real man, or let alone anyone. Where do we see the stopping point to this madness? Is it when we are admitting more teens to the psych ward of hospitals because they have been harassed or bullied, or even pressured so badly that they wouldn't even have the will to take the time to see that things get better? That maybe there is a ray of sunshine within the storm of darkness that's been constantly lurking around and over their heads for years, all because someone decided that they weren't good enough? That a girl who possesses more true beauty than a rare flower, can be so detached from the world all because her dad decided she wasn't worth the time, and so she sells herself short looking for male attention? When do stereotypes start to define our normality? When do we allow a label or stereotype to become the one with the remote control? High school has been a rough experience for me. I have seen things, heard things, been called things, and dealt with thoughts of suicide. But as for me, I am finally seeing with my own eyes. That it indeed. Does get better. Hold on just a little bit longer and if you feel like you cannot withstand the pressure any longer, continue to push on harder, because that's what will make you stronger. I know it will hurt, and I know it sure won't be easy. But I guarantee it will get better eventually. People and time will fade, but I beg you to hold onto your spirit and continue to hope, because I know that the darkest point is always before the dawn.
Love Always,
Rachael Andersen