You are Worthy

For years I've waited. I've been the patient one. I didn't jump in for fun.

For years I've waited. I was the wise one. Though nothing I ever advised was done.

For years I've waited. To be told I'm loved. By someone who wasn't supposed to.

Now I stand on the edge. I stand on the precipice of what has been in my life and what could be. I stand on the edge as you look at me.

I've always told others to jump in and go for it. To say how they felt and they wouldn't regret it.

And here I am wanting to tell you that I like you, but thinking that their case and mine are not the same.

My life is different, I've always argued. They were the pretty ones. And I was there wishing that I was.

Now, however, everything has changed. I know who I am and what I am capable of.And I know that I am beautiful.

I know that sometimes things don't work out, but that doesn't mean we don't go for them.

Sometimes people don't feel the same, but that shouldn't bring us to the conclusion that we are not worthy.

You are worthy. And I am worthy.

And all I want right now is to tell you that I see your worthiness.

I see how you struggle but I'm here to tell you, you are wonderful.

I see the little things that make me laugh, the little things that somehow make me feel more worthy. I want to be the one who makes you laugh. The one who points you towards God in everything.

You are worthy. And so am I.

So even if I open my lips and say I like you, and you don't say yes, I know I'll be just fine.

Time Has Taught Me Things

In 2010, I started writing my own teen novel. I worked on it for a long time and then eventually felt like it was terrible and it would never get published, or even finished. I read so many better things around me and knew so many writers that were exceedingly better than I was.

Last week, I opened it back up again. I began rewriting it, adding detail and changing certain situations. I was fully immersed in it. It brought me joy again.

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In sixth grade I got my first guitar. I loved it. I wrote terrible songs with my friends and then we would stand by our tree and sing them during school breaks. It never led anywhere but eventually my songs got better and I could do it on my own.

Recently I've had a really hard time playing my guitar and writing songs. Even looking at my guitar across the room makes me feel guilty for not touching it. I have a hard time because I don't want anyone to hear me. There is a much better guitar player in the house and I think sometimes I'm just too intimidated to write my songs that consist of four chords.

So I haven't.

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Sometimes I think we allow others success to scare us out of our own.

I spent almost all of college feeling like I couldn't be a writer because it was somebody else's thing. They were a terrific writer and I sucked, or at least felt like I did.

But when we put the pressure of others success on ourselves, it scares us out of trying.

At least it scared me out of trying.

Instead of asking my friend to read my writing and help me become better, I just stopped writing.

I became too prideful. If I couldn't be great at it on my own then I wasn't going to do it at all.

I'm scared of criticism, even if it's constructive, especially if it's constructive.

But here I am again, writing. I'm writing because I love it. Because I love creating things.

If I love something, I'm not going to stop because someone else does it better. There's always going to be someone that does something better.

The only difference is that they aren't me. They don't want to say what I want to say.

They don't want to sing how I want to sing, or play guitar.

No one can do what I do, because no one is me, but me.

I can keep doing what I love and continue to get better.

Or I can stop everything because I think that I'm not good enough, based on someone else's years of practice.

These are the things that time has taught me.

Him

There wasn't really a time where I didn't notice him. We grew up together, but separate.

I admired him when we were kids. His desire to always seek adventure.

He'd end up hurt and try to act like he was fine, like I did.

I usually kept up with him too. Well. Not running. He was too fast.

Too skinny and aerodynamic. But in spirit I kept up with him.

I remember that he was always hyper, always wanted to do something.

I remember playing truth or dare, and wishing that someone would dare him to kiss me.

I remember being disappointed when he was dared to kiss me and he didn't.

I remember him being there when I started falling for the biggest devastation of my life.

I remember wishing that we were closer. That he could see the potential he saw in her, in me.

Sometimes there are people we just notice. People that no matter where you are in your life, if you see them you will stand up straight and hope that they give you the time of day even though you haven't ever really had a good conversation with them.

You wish you were funnier, or more interesting because then maybe he would seem interested when you talked to him.

I was there when it seemed like he was falling away. Wishing that there was something I could do or say to make it better.

It's good though, to see him now. He's doing well. I don't even have to talk to him to see it. Not that I don't want to.

I'm just scared. Like I've always been.

Scared that he won't notice me.

When I've always noticed him.

When I've noticed him grow up into a man. Finally taking charge and growing. Making progress to do and be better, for himself.

He's so calm now. Like me.

We both used to run around playing games and sports and chasing each other.

I remember when he fell and ripped his cargo pants, leaving his bloody knee exposed.

I remember when he got a concussion playing musical chairs. Musical Chairs.

Now, he seems so stoic almost. Calm and collected, like he's trying to keep in everything that's happened to him. Like me.

Maybe one day he'll look at me and see that he can trust me.

I haven't really talked to him in years. But there's still time.

Time to reach out.

Because when I think of the person I've always noticed, it's always been him.