You can do the impossible
I was reminded earlier today that you really can do the impossible. Who was it that reminded me this? Myself. From five years ago.
All to often lately I can feel my dreams and imagination getting smaller and smaller, shrinking just ever so slightly every single day.
But of all things to remind me that I have an imagination and can truly and really with all honesty do the impossible, was old artwork.
I remember how I felt when I drew those drawings, I remember how proud I felt of myself for accomplishing all that I did when I colored them and drew them with such confidence.
That is what I lack now. Confidence.
Confidence can be something you have, or something you learn. For me, it is something I had, and then lost, and needed to learn once again.
I've been contemplating selling artwork lately, to try and earn money and to gain something, what exactly I have no clue. But all I can think right now is that all I'm doing is I'm sitting on my hands and keeping everything I do to myself, not hardly ever even showing my progress to my family. Probably because a lot of the responses is the same, or at least I feel like it's the same. But not to say it doesn't help, but it's very different to hear encouragement from a family member, and a friend, or even a stranger.
(Then reigns the question: how on earth do I respond to a compliment? But that's for another time.)
I can do the impossible. And so can you.
I can do the impossible, and so can you because each and every single one of us has something special inside.
Lately, if I had to describe what it feels like inside of me, I would say it feels like I have the roaring of a lion inside of my chest and heart, a very spirit even? I have a feeling inside of me that in English I can only translate as into power. I feel a spirit of power inside of me, all the time. A roaring lion is currently inside me, growling, but silent, waiting, almost like a cat ready to pounce, whether in playfulness or in charge of attack, I don't think I'll ever fully know.
I feel a spirit of a roaring and silent lion inside of me, yet at the same time I have wings. I have wings that help me fly so as to see the world differently. They keep me up and show me things that while I fly I could never see before.
I have a mind that I have described once before as a time piece, and not much there has changed, all save one thing I would like to add to it. My mind is so much more, but at the same time feels like it could be so much less.
A mind is a mind, and each one is special and unique, each one is it's own.
But somehow, I feel so strange in my own mind, as odd as any phrase along that line might sound.
I have a strange and curious intellect, but at the same time can be so infallibly fuzzy. I have obscure knowledge of many things that flows very deep into the inner parts of my brain. And simple things and facts that millions of people know I struggle or fail to understand.
I have knowledge of weapons of bygone times, of poems and of things. Yet I don't understand some days, the simplest of things.
I feel no loss of not knowing much of what has occurred in today's society, but as far as things that I know that I should know, especially involving obscure facts, like philosophy? I may feel a certain loss there.
I read Sherlock Holmes, and many other mysteries, Hardy Boys and Hollisters.
I was given the nickname of Sherlock recently by a friend, and honestly I felt so very honored to be given such a name. A nickname alone is to me a thing to proudly bear, but the nickname of Sherlock, a favorite childhood Detective hero? That meant an especial amount more.
I've been given many names over times and years gone by, many I love, a stray few I don't quite fancy, but many of them that I have been given I do dearly cherish.
So to say you have given me a nickname, and one like Sherlock no less, I want to say thank you. For it means so much more to me than you could realize.
Sherlock is someone who I have looked up to in the world of books almost as long as I have known about him.
I have two main childhood heroes that I remember and know made a very big impression on me.
Robin Hood, and Sherlock Holmes.
Sherlock Holmes was not quite as much a part of my childhood as some other characters, but he has made one of the more prominent impressions on me. Robin Hood being almost like a very close and long-lasting very dear friend.
If I was to describe them both, it'd be like this.
A friend, and a teacher.
A model, and an inspiration.
A hope, and a sympathizer.
Robin Hood is the friend that I have always wished to have, the hero who never left a man behind, who knew what was right and never feared to do it, and had a courage and a heart beyond bounds or measure.
Sherlock Holmes is the one who I feel can sympathize with how I have dealt with my mind for quite a long time. The people who see more than others, recall events and times or places and things, such small minute details that you do your absolute best to not appear creepy, or a stalker.
Robin Hood was, and is my friend.
Sherlock Holmes is me.
People say, that Sherlock Holmes is someone who doesn't really have emotions, or doesn't really care at times about other people or what they think.
But, it takes one to know one.
I don't see him as lacking sympathy or apathy, it's sometimes just hard, or even impossible some days to not be able to have and share in the emotions of others, especially in days when you struggle with not always having emotions for yourself.
It's not always easy being able to see and remember all the small details without too much effort without people wondering and sometimes worrying at all that you see.
It's not always easy having many passions that you can't keep tidy.
It's not always easy, being like Sherlock Holmes.
Minds like clockwork and hearts like gold, or maybe sometimes even like glass.
Emotions are a hard thing, something that about 7 years ago I tried to tame, and did all too well. I did so well, that I lacked any emotion. And that to this day I still at times struggle to keep peace with.
I struggle to show and have deep emotion even now because of heartbreak.
And let me say this. Heartbreak does not come only from love.
Heartbreak come from and is in the form of many things.
I am not as old as many people, nor as young, but have been told many times that; "You have gone through far more at your age than almost every other person your age has."
I have seen, and felt the pain of death.
I have gone through the struggles of dark and depressive thoughts.
I have felt the sting of rejection and defeat.
I have felt so much and my heart is some days barely holding together with it's many shards.
But yet, despite it all... I'm still standing here.
I'm still standing here, and not by my own free will.
In this, I am like Sherlock, not a Robin Hood.
I needed people, I needed someone that I could turn to and know was there; and that ended up being so many more people than just one.
I have no longer any clue how many friends I have, I have so many, so many, and each and every single one I am so thankful for. Because each one has helped to keep me from drowning.
Each friend I have has been given to me, and each one I am thankful for. So much.
I want to thank you all, all of my friends, family, and to those of you who don't even know that you have kept me up, thank you for keeping me up.
All to often lately I can feel my dreams and imagination getting smaller and smaller, shrinking just ever so slightly every single day.
But of all things to remind me that I have an imagination and can truly and really with all honesty do the impossible, was old artwork.
I remember how I felt when I drew those drawings, I remember how proud I felt of myself for accomplishing all that I did when I colored them and drew them with such confidence.
That is what I lack now. Confidence.
Confidence can be something you have, or something you learn. For me, it is something I had, and then lost, and needed to learn once again.
I've been contemplating selling artwork lately, to try and earn money and to gain something, what exactly I have no clue. But all I can think right now is that all I'm doing is I'm sitting on my hands and keeping everything I do to myself, not hardly ever even showing my progress to my family. Probably because a lot of the responses is the same, or at least I feel like it's the same. But not to say it doesn't help, but it's very different to hear encouragement from a family member, and a friend, or even a stranger.
(Then reigns the question: how on earth do I respond to a compliment? But that's for another time.)
I can do the impossible. And so can you.
I can do the impossible, and so can you because each and every single one of us has something special inside.
Lately, if I had to describe what it feels like inside of me, I would say it feels like I have the roaring of a lion inside of my chest and heart, a very spirit even? I have a feeling inside of me that in English I can only translate as into power. I feel a spirit of power inside of me, all the time. A roaring lion is currently inside me, growling, but silent, waiting, almost like a cat ready to pounce, whether in playfulness or in charge of attack, I don't think I'll ever fully know.
I feel a spirit of a roaring and silent lion inside of me, yet at the same time I have wings. I have wings that help me fly so as to see the world differently. They keep me up and show me things that while I fly I could never see before.
I have a mind that I have described once before as a time piece, and not much there has changed, all save one thing I would like to add to it. My mind is so much more, but at the same time feels like it could be so much less.
A mind is a mind, and each one is special and unique, each one is it's own.
But somehow, I feel so strange in my own mind, as odd as any phrase along that line might sound.
I have a strange and curious intellect, but at the same time can be so infallibly fuzzy. I have obscure knowledge of many things that flows very deep into the inner parts of my brain. And simple things and facts that millions of people know I struggle or fail to understand.
I have knowledge of weapons of bygone times, of poems and of things. Yet I don't understand some days, the simplest of things.
I feel no loss of not knowing much of what has occurred in today's society, but as far as things that I know that I should know, especially involving obscure facts, like philosophy? I may feel a certain loss there.
I read Sherlock Holmes, and many other mysteries, Hardy Boys and Hollisters.
I was given the nickname of Sherlock recently by a friend, and honestly I felt so very honored to be given such a name. A nickname alone is to me a thing to proudly bear, but the nickname of Sherlock, a favorite childhood Detective hero? That meant an especial amount more.
I've been given many names over times and years gone by, many I love, a stray few I don't quite fancy, but many of them that I have been given I do dearly cherish.
So to say you have given me a nickname, and one like Sherlock no less, I want to say thank you. For it means so much more to me than you could realize.
Sherlock is someone who I have looked up to in the world of books almost as long as I have known about him.
I have two main childhood heroes that I remember and know made a very big impression on me.
Robin Hood, and Sherlock Holmes.
Sherlock Holmes was not quite as much a part of my childhood as some other characters, but he has made one of the more prominent impressions on me. Robin Hood being almost like a very close and long-lasting very dear friend.
If I was to describe them both, it'd be like this.
A friend, and a teacher.
A model, and an inspiration.
A hope, and a sympathizer.
Robin Hood is the friend that I have always wished to have, the hero who never left a man behind, who knew what was right and never feared to do it, and had a courage and a heart beyond bounds or measure.
Sherlock Holmes is the one who I feel can sympathize with how I have dealt with my mind for quite a long time. The people who see more than others, recall events and times or places and things, such small minute details that you do your absolute best to not appear creepy, or a stalker.
Robin Hood was, and is my friend.
Sherlock Holmes is me.
People say, that Sherlock Holmes is someone who doesn't really have emotions, or doesn't really care at times about other people or what they think.
But, it takes one to know one.
I don't see him as lacking sympathy or apathy, it's sometimes just hard, or even impossible some days to not be able to have and share in the emotions of others, especially in days when you struggle with not always having emotions for yourself.
It's not always easy being able to see and remember all the small details without too much effort without people wondering and sometimes worrying at all that you see.
It's not always easy having many passions that you can't keep tidy.
It's not always easy, being like Sherlock Holmes.
Minds like clockwork and hearts like gold, or maybe sometimes even like glass.
Emotions are a hard thing, something that about 7 years ago I tried to tame, and did all too well. I did so well, that I lacked any emotion. And that to this day I still at times struggle to keep peace with.
I struggle to show and have deep emotion even now because of heartbreak.
And let me say this. Heartbreak does not come only from love.
Heartbreak come from and is in the form of many things.
I am not as old as many people, nor as young, but have been told many times that; "You have gone through far more at your age than almost every other person your age has."
I have seen, and felt the pain of death.
I have gone through the struggles of dark and depressive thoughts.
I have felt the sting of rejection and defeat.
I have felt so much and my heart is some days barely holding together with it's many shards.
But yet, despite it all... I'm still standing here.
I'm still standing here, and not by my own free will.
In this, I am like Sherlock, not a Robin Hood.
I needed people, I needed someone that I could turn to and know was there; and that ended up being so many more people than just one.
I have no longer any clue how many friends I have, I have so many, so many, and each and every single one I am so thankful for. Because each one has helped to keep me from drowning.
Each friend I have has been given to me, and each one I am thankful for. So much.
I want to thank you all, all of my friends, family, and to those of you who don't even know that you have kept me up, thank you for keeping me up.
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