THE MYTHS MADE ME DO IT

By Myth Reid - August 11, 2017

Why am I here? How did I get here? The cleverest excuse would be because it’s 1:00 A.M.  In the wee hours, our neurons go wild that we tend to do or create things we normally just dodge when we’re fully awake in daylight. But do you know something? I probably just made that up.

What I believe is that, sometimes, in the day, while we’re hustling along the other front-runners of the animal kingdom, something happens. Something happens that would make us think things. Something happens that would make us feel. Something happens that would keep us woke at night.


I’m usually wrong when it comes to a lot of things. Or so I’d like to think. Therefore, I could be wrong in that premise, too. Most of the time, I would tend to shy away from the world too afraid to make the mistake that would betray myself, or my dreams, or my good intentions. How do I survive? I survive by feeling. I survive by telling the world how I feel. That’s why I write, where writing both means blogging, or simply, venting out on social media.

In the past, my mouth was unstoppable. Webster would describe me as candid. People who know me would go for tactless. And I am hoping that’s no longer true now. Of course, there are occasions when I would rant on Facebook, but that’s only because I am feeling. Sometimes, when our lives run out of love, anger just spurts out from holes we could not cover. That’s my truth.

The reason I don’t worry about what other people will say about the negativity they’ll think I’m spreading is because I have lived at least half of my life suppressing truths because I thought the lies would save me. When I realized I had been wrong, I spoke my truth every chance I got.

What were the lies? Why do I think too much? Feel too much? Why isn’t this your truth? I could only wish it were so that you’d understand me better. That would be a terrible thing to wish for, however. The thing is, I’m not someone who grew up with adults telling me, “hey, you’re fine,” or, “just let that go,” or “be happy.” I had to figure all of that on my own. I woke up every time the sun would peek the tiniest bit through our house while everyone's still asleep and snoring so I could observe my surroundings, and prove to myself that everything that’s happening in my life wasn’t just a nightmare, and that they were real. I had no one to share those discoveries with because it wasn’t like a box of chocolate that everyone will be happy about. Yes, I had to figure out how to be fine on my own. I climbed guava trees to write my poems down. I stayed up late until i-FM’s midnight playlist drowned the noises in my head out. I had to find a way to survive. To date, here I am, still trying.

What brought me here is the fact that people are trying to get me to shut up. And I do get where they’re coming from. It’s hard to deal with people who have a lot to say, especially those who say the negative ones. They’re pains not only in the neck, but all the way down to the spine. However, there’s this thing Psychology calls coping, and these people you hate could just be doing that, and you’re taking that away from them just 'cause it’s ruining your own peace of mind. If you got so lucky with your lives so that you have nothing to complain about, then good for you. If you got lucky with your lives so that everything just instantly becomes sunny as desired, then good for you. If you got lucky with your lives so that you can only talk about the cool, the positive, and the lovely things, then good for you. But please, just please, with all humility, I ask you to leave the drama queens alone, the pessimists, the ones ensnared by depression, the poets who are lonely, the ones who prefer the sunset, or everyone who’s just trying to live their lives in the best way they know how.

‘Coz do you know something? You’d only know how a pebble hurts someone’s feet until you put on his shoe.

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