Hear You Me

Breathe in, breathe out. I became so lost in that feeling that is impossible to elucidate. I can not recollect what it feels like once it dissipates. My body goes numb. My chest feels like it is sustaining the weight of the world and the taste of salty tears builds up in my throat as I try to swallow. My rootless mind, which never shuts off, becomes vacant. I had no idea that after that phone call from a friend, I was about to enter the most tumultuous, but indispensable nine months of my life thus far. Breathe in, breathe out.
I was only thirteen. To outsiders, just a naïve child, but to those who knew me, I was a kid far beyond my years. I have always been commended on my maturity and how I take passion and pride in the things that I hold close to my heart. But this time, I wasn’t who everyone expected me to be in the face of disaster. During the blistering summer of July of 2007, I was told that my dance teacher, Denise, was killed in a car accident. Until then, I had never lost someone to death that I cared about so completely and unconditionally. I didn’t know how to react, feel, or cope. I isolated myself, shutting out others who wanted in. I began thinking and questioning everything that happened in my lifetime and became perturbed and severely depressed when I couldn’t find the answers. But, I became determined to understand the way I was feeling and started to realize that every single person in the world exists for a reason and it was time for me to figure out why it is I am here. Through all of these setbacks, I managed to learn my role in the world is going to change, but I need to be strong enough to face misfortune and never lose a sense of myself. I discovered death isn’t the end of living and I want to change someone’s outlook on life the way Denise changed mine.
I was almost sixteen. To outsiders, a studious, hardworking girl, but to those who knew me, a strong individual who has developed and become confident in my identity the last few years. It was August of 2009. My parents came back from the hospital with news that my Papa had passed away. Naturally, such a heartrending tragedy felt like a slap in the face. I was devastated that the only man I’d seen conquer so many battles finally put his weapon down. But, the second time around it became so much easier to cope with. I remembered that I needed to hold onto the things my Papa taught me and what role he played in my life. I was proud of my ability to take the positive out of such a displeasing situation and I noticed evolution within myself that I never thought possible. I am proud of who I was, who I am, and who I am becoming.
Sometimes that feeling comes back. I still don’t know how to explain it, or why it is there, but I have learned that after the bad feeling dies, something beautiful is brought to life. As I grow older, I have come to learn lessons from all individuals I cross paths with in my life and allow every one of them to shape the way I live my life. Breathe in, breathe out.