Being Human

Broken hipbones and twisted spines make your brain bleed a certain kind of crimson -- a fragility so centered in the apex of your thinking cavity that you almost forget that words can create noise when there is none and replace silence when it becomes so heavy you can't breathe. You've been force fed lies and phrases and given excuses for being who you are: which is human. You build walls of steel around your withering heart in the hopes that it will make you impervious to pain and make you a creature who can't be destroyed by hurtful words or nursery rhymes or flying fists. But no one ever told you that it's alright to have feelings -- that it's alright to feel pain as it bleeds through your fingertips and it's alright to feel that your brain has been stifled and your heart has been stolen.

It's alright to not be okay.

We seek imperfections in the grooves of our skin and create folds where there are none in the hopes that it will make us human. But you have forgotten that you are human. And that you are perfectly imperfect. Creation is what replenished us but nobody ever speaks of destruction -- of the decrepit buildings furrowing under weight they can't withstand, or humans tumbling under the cavities of normality and destroying themselves so that they can be rid of the distance they had created between themselves and humanity.

Destruction can be beautiful too.

Abolished factories and crumbling arcades are only an exemplification of human morality and for those of us that have reached the dingy corners of our frostbitten minds and dusted away the cobwebs, it can be normal. Sometimes we have to destroy: we have to clamber with violent fingers and tear apart the structures that had built us upward because they have made us whole and human -- and it's alright to be a segregated part of a puzzle, or the missing piece. Because one day someone will pick you up with tender fingers and slide you in your place and show you that the road to recovery is brutal and vehement, but also that it is kind. 

So it's alright to crawl to the recess of your mind and protect yourself from humanity: because humanity can be cruel. Humanity can be inhuman and immoral, and it can be aggressive, and it can crack your spine and leave you disabled. But it can be brilliant and wonderful -- and if you forget the good then you will be absorbed by the bad until you can't remember the light as it creeps through the blinds on a Sunday morning, or his breath on your skin to let you know that he is there and that he won't leave. 

You will forget the beauty of being human.