When I was little I hoped that eventually things would make sense. Nothing really did. Not the way the world worked or my family, for that matter. I didn't understand myself, either, my desires and how to get them. I didn't know that I was longing for things and when I did long for them, I assumed it was bad. I was supposed to be happy with things the way they were because it seemed that most other people just went along with the program. I hated the program.
If it weren't for the people I read about in books--and I was always reading--i would have assumed I was from an alien planet, a changeling. Book taught me that there were other people like me, though they seemed to be stuck in books. Yet some twisted soul wrote the damn story, so there was hope! The characters were upset and angry. They wanted things and traveled to get them. They had evil aunts who got theirs in the end, squished by giant peaches. They believed and were rewarded, hoped and things came true. They met the men of their dreams and their dreams were amazing. But before all the good stuff, they were the little weird trolls I seemed to be tribe to--thinking, watching, often unhappy and flat out weird.
The good news is that I grew up, and about five years ago, I stopped feeling like a troll. Really. I realized that I might still be a troll but that I got it now. The world was making more sense. For years up until then, I'd still been that little girl trying to go along with the program.
I did much of what I wanted, but I was still trying to figure it out and do what other people said would make me happy and it had--and it hadn't. So I took the good things, shoved them in my satchel, and went out to find the things I'd been longing for since I was small and staring out my living room window, holding a book that spoke to me of desires. I decided that enough of this hiding my troll stuff, and went out to the land of desire.
This land is a bit confusing and weird and slightly dangerous at times, but I made it through. And though I am right now staring out of a window, I understand what I am looking at. It makes sense to me now in a way it did not for years. My window, my view. I am sure there is so much more to learn and do, and the window may or may not change, but I'm not confused at all. My life suddenly with sense involved, infused by desire, made by my own decisions for better or worse.
Causes Jessica Inclán Supports
Women for Women International Goodwill Industries Lindsey Wildlife Museum Freecycle.org