The world is a crazy place with some crazy ideas that just might work out in the end. I used to wonder how it felt to be blind, or to have one leg or arm. I wondered what it was like to not walk or speak. To not have a home or loved ones. I wondered why people had to suffer while others lived happy and free. I wondered why the rich never helped the poor. Then I got older…
There are people that have eyes that work, but can they really see what’s in front of them? Can they really look into the deepest part of your eyes and see who you really are? Sometimes the blind can see more than we ever dreamt. They know that beauty is not what you see, but what you feel when you are with someone. Not everyone knows that, and a lot of broken hearts ignite because of it.
Just because you are different from someone else or have more or less money does not make you any less happy. Happiness is a choice. You have to choose to be happy. You have to cut out everything that ever hurt you and fill that empty void with everything that makes you happy. Surround yourself with peace and love yourself. That is the key – not money.
The rich often do help the poor, and the media doesn’t want to show that. I learned that the media only shows 80% negativity and 20% positivity.
Growing up, I had a phobia of becoming fat. People saw how skinny I was and asked me if I was okay. I never understood why until I got older.
Today, I have a lot of diverse friends and family. I like to learn from different people. I even made it a point to date anyone that was not the same as me. I love learning how people think and why. I love hearing about their cultures and lives. I never understood why some battled about skin color and I don’t think I ever will.
Something that has haunted me for a long time was a teacher in grade 6. I never knew skin color was an issue until her…
A girl in my class was late. Her boyfriend walked her to class and she kissed him goodbye. The teacher, who had a look of disapproval said “What a time to be alive. My parents would have never let me do something like that.” The girl then replied that her mother knew she had a boyfriend. The teacher said, “Oh no, that’s not what I meant. I meant that you guys are allowed to go out with whoever you want.” We all stared at her in confusion. “He is different from you. He’s black and you’re Hispanic. Two different races and colors. I was only allowed to hang out and ate white people or I would get into trouble.” For the first time my class and myself started to look at our skin. It was like my eyes were opening up to a new world.
“But my family is all different colors…” I thought to myself. It bothered me so much that I went home and told my mother. She was angry and told me that the teacher was wrong for pointing that out. She said we are all human and the only thing that makes us different is how we think.
Now, I think a lot. I think about everything and anything. Sometimes my mind is scary, but I would never think to hate someone for how they look. I admire the difference in everyone’s beauty.