To be born into a world so lackluster, so intent on stripping away dreams, individuality, and creativity — it should be criminal to tell those who fall victim that they are not normal. To encourage them to hold onto those very things — dreams, individuality, and creativity. Is it not hypocritical to tell those born with such gifts that they must use them to the fullest, while existing within a society built to ***** out those gifts and holders of such? Calling upon such people as too emotional, weird, out of touch, and or eccentric, in a way that offends, is a hypocrisy often ignored.

I am offensive, in the ways that rain is offensive on a hot day; some breathe a sigh of relief, others curse the timing of my arrival. I come to offer a refreshing view, a clean slate, a new beginning. But I can be strong — strong enough to sweep away the things I love. I remind you to cherish what stands, before the world swallows it whole. And though once gone, I will dig a hole, and I will fill it with myself, offering a new life to those who come next.

I am as offensive as a puppy jumping at the legs of a passerby; some smile and pet me, while others shrug me off, annoyed by my lack of control and my lack of boundaries. But the childlike wonder carried by those who have been touched by the darkest entities — that wonder is one of the most beautiful things on Earth. Having seen the darkness in this life, and perhaps the lives before, I will always remain a puppy.

The beauty of life would not be beautiful without the ugly.

I am too ugly.
I am the mud beneath your shoe.
I am the wasp buzzing too near.
I am the coffee stain on your work pants — always noticed, yet never welcomed to stay.

And yet I am the wind that blows the yellow, orange, and red leaves across your yard after a long day — reminding you to breathe.

Through the chaos, there are beautiful moments to be held.
Those who carry chaos offer the most peaceful moments, unbeknownst to most.

I am deep and vast as the Pacific Ocean — crashing upon the rocks one day,
Sitting idle on the sand, the next,
A being of stagnancy, yet a being of ever-changing and constantly in motion.
I can swallow things whole, keep them hidden within me for lifetimes.
Or I can choose to unearth them — share them with the shore.
Let myself be seen by those I once feared, of polluting me.