89/365 - “Sticks and Stones” - Sticks and stones may break my bones but words can never hurt me. I always hated that term growing up. I mean, its just not true. Words are worse than sticks and stones. Words are like daggers. Piercing every vulnerable part of your shield. When you’re a kid (kid being defined as someone still in grade school) its expected to overhear things said about your physical appearance. Big nose, small chest, too short, weird mole, ugly face…take your pick. I am no stranger to being bullied or made fun of. I was the token awkward, chubby girl in school and the perfect object for mean comments to make others seem “cool”. I wish I could say that the bullying ended after elementary school, however, I was harassed for my weight well into high school. Growing up in this environment I realized the only way to make it through was to grow some tough skin and put up my guard. As soon as I graduated high school I moved out of Sterling and started my life in NYC. Moving away allowed me to appreciate myself…where I had come from and the woman I was becoming. I learned to love the person I was, inside and out, and slowly began to put the guard, that had protected me for so long, down. Well, like I said earlier, when you’re a kid you expect to overhear things said about your physical appearance…not when you’re an adult. As an adult, you assume that others are just as mature as you. So, when someone points out a flaw of yours (in a genuinely vicious way) that you have fought for so many years to hide, you begin to question whether you’re really as strong as you once thought you were. You wonder if the rest of the world agrees with this one person’s opinion. You can only assume that, yes, the rest of the world does indeed agree that you are ______ (fill in the blank with your least favorite adjective). Mine probably being fat, loud, or “ginormous”.
Well heres the thing: I am 22 years old and I believe that I am indeed a beautiful woman. It has taken me awhile to be able to say that and no angry boy will ever be able to take that away from me. I will admit, I was certainly brought back to the fourth grade, walking home from school crying nearly every day because, once again, someone called me “heffer”. And yet, I will not put that beat up, bullied, and worn out guard up again. I let myself be vulnerable because its better than feeling nothing at all. There are people out there that say mean things; its a fact of life. They aren’t important. Whats important is what you do after hearing those mean things.
Onto the music part: I wrote this song with the intention of singing. I even wrote lyrics. The verse being a four-line speech about a battle “just to wake up, facing another day in this skin” and the chorus a repetitive haunt of “just fight (push through to see the light)”. However, after recording and listening to the piano part over and over again, I realized that the piano actually speaks quite well on its own. Words would just be added noise.
I hope you feel the same when I say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Enjoy :)