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People Watching Explained

I love to watch humans be human. I love to see humans interact with others, with themselves, with nature and mostly, with God. I want to use this writing space to experience life in their eyes. I want to feel what they feel and understand their responses to life.

The writing seen here are not my own experiences. They are writings about regular people doing regular things but written as if it were ART. Because it is.

I’ve never seen such beauty in so much imperfection therefore, I gotta write about it.

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My First Blog Post

Be yourself; Everyone else is already taken.

— Oscar Wilde.

That quote is part of a WordPress template to get you to start writing. I’m gunna leave it there. Lol

Dont be that person to encourage others to “be themselves” and when they live life as “themselves”, you quickly want to correct them and mold them into something far from who they are.

If you’re going to give yourself freedom to be “you”, then be just as open when your neighbor decides to shave the side of their head to match her artistic nature.

Yup, I shaved the side of my head once and I regret letting it grow out everyday. I compromised who I was to please people who don’t even care about me. I’m still working on not doing that.

Join me in my journey on… not doing that.

Unimpressive that is Me

Writing is not my thing.

Thinking is.

I don’t enjoy writing because I’d have to water down my thoughts by writing words I barely know how to use.

I’m judged based on grammar.

Spelling.

Style.

Penmanship.

I wish I was better, though.

I wish I could impress the world with writing skills that has never been seen before.

But I’m just regular.

Average.

Unimpressive.

I’m at peace with an audience of 1.

An audience of an unimpressive, average, regular individual that is me.

Sand in my Hand

There’s something about grabbing a handful of sand and observing the combination of patterns and colors on the tiny rocks and seashells.

“Hey! Look at these colors. Aren’t they mesmerizing?”

Just to think that there is a wider color spectrum that the natural eyes cannot see.

There’s more? More colors you say?

I can’t think of a color that doesn’t exist. Why won’t you give it a try?

None. Right?

It’s said that the skies declare the work of God’s hand.

God knew our faithlessness. He uses the sky as an example because it is untouchable and full of mystery. Our minds don’t need to work hard to wonder.

But it was the sand in my hand that inflated my faith and stirred up this reserved excitement in me.

Powerful Prisoner

Don’t try to be like me.
Instead, use my mistakes.
I cant show you my defeat.
My pedestal might break.

It might seem like I won this battle.
The one that gives status and might.
I’m just a prisoner of war.
Their hands holding a knife.

If I try to bend,
Their hands grip tighter
If I try to break
They’ll swing the knife higher.

Don’t try to be like me.
Instead, use my mistakes.
I’m not allowed to fold.
I’m not allowed to flake.

What is my mistake you ask?
The one mistake I was allowed to have?
It was to climb a ladder called status.
I pushed to climb it the fastest.

It was the right thing to do, right?
To become someone with power and flight.
Now the people below hold me captive.
This shouldn’t even happen.

Don’t try to be like me.
Just use my so-called victory.
Can’t break, can’t cry, can’t weep.
Can’t fold, can’t sigh, can’t sleep.

Look up, head high, don’t talk.
Look strong, look bold, eyes locked.
I’m important now, how I once wished.
I’m the perfection thats forced to exist.

I Know you

The world is a simulation. It has to be.
I am simply a thoughtfully created character of Your world.
You chose my facial features piece by piece from an array of different options.
Like a video game.
You picked different personality traits based on Your designed purpose for me.
My life is not a result of my own choices, rather, it all has been predestined before time.
Am I really free? Free to think, choose and feel?
Is it free will? Or is it, well, Your will?

God:
I love your character.
The character I chose in order to create your full being.
Yes I created you, but I love how you are, well… you.
I love how you maneuver the personality traits I chose for you.
I love how my creation chooses to express life.
Yes my will is done on earth and yes my will is done in you.
And yes you are free to think, choose and feel.
Yes I know what you will eat for dinner tonight, and that you’ll wear a blue shirt to bed.
I don’t know this because I ORDAINED it to be that way.
I know this because I know YOU.
I know you’ll change your mind and eat that left over pizza instead of that salad you made yesterday.
You didn’t eat breakfast this morning.
You’re hungry.
I know that you just washed your favorite blue shirt and therefore you’ll choose it amongst all your other shirts.
I know what you will do before you do it because,
I. KNOW. YOU.

Bitterness

The funky thing about bitterness is that its burns when someone says you’re bitter. Almost like the word bitterness is the new B word.

Id rather someone call me a B than to call me bitter.

The B word is an emotionally driven word based on no hard facts. You don’t need access to my heart or learn my secrets to label me as one. So it doesn’t matter to me. It doesn’t hurt me.

But…when someone calls me bitter, the walls I built to protect my vulnerability is compromised and the mask I wear to hide my weakness is ripped off.

It only brings me to assume that you’ve analyzed my words and emotions. You broke into my home and ransacked my nightstand, found my diaries and exposed my secrets. You discovered the hidden things about me that I didn’t consent to.

Why would you take your time to study me? What are you trying to figure out?

A good person would try to heal the bitterness in a friend.

But a bitter person looks around targeting people who are just like themselves.

Apple of His Eye

You ever notice how your eyes blink when something gets near it? I mean, try it yourself. Poke yourself in the eye. Immediately, your eyes blink to protect you from irreversible damage.

Of course, I want to test this human feature out and see if I can keep my eyes open and prove that blinking is not involuntary at all.

We all know the truth. Blinking is something your body does with or without your consent.

Yesterday, I was reminded that I am the very sensitive part of God’s eye. The part that if anything goes near it, the human body goes into defense mode.

God goes into defense mode.

When I think of God, and I think of being the apple of His eye, I imagine his defense over my life is also an act that He chooses to do, with or without my consent.

Whether I am good or whether I am bad

He defends me because of who He is. and just like us, I don’t think He could help but come to our rescue when we are hurt.

And lets just say that we do get hurt, and all seems lost. He has already conquered death and our lives are secured in heaven.

But even the idea that pain on earth is inevitable, Im still left unsettled. Maybe even anxious.

Its good to know that this short life cannot compare to eternity and in the end, He protected us from eternal danger since the beginning of time.

I love being the apple of His eye.

Please Care For My Soul

I’m surrounded by so many people who love me that I get mad at myself for feeling like I’m alone.

What am I looking for?

So I wonder.

Then I saw a post on Facebook. Something about our souls being cared for.

I never thought about that. So many good people in my life love me but who really cares for my soul?

The part of me that sits in my heart. The part of me that rests in my mind. The part of me that shines in my belly.

I cant expect for someone to care for a part of me I refuse to expose. Its not really fair.

But it would be nice if someone pursued that part of me and took enough interest to listen.

Understanding the concept of loneliness when you’re not really alone.

the people watching series by Authkg

Pasta Eyes

When we feel strongly towards someone, it shows in our eyes.

I’ve made it a mission to watch the movement of someone’s eyes when they are talking to me.

I document the squints and the wrinkles and the directions the pupils go when certain things are said.

I see how wide the eyes open when one is telling an exciting story.

I watch the eyelids drop when one is expressing sorrow.

One of my favorite eye movements is when someone is heavily in love. So in love, that it hurts.

I remember when you made me pasta. You were so busy in the kitchen stirring and cutting and mixing to make me happy. To impress me

I called your name and you dropped everything at once. You wiped your hands on the towel hanging by the stove and kept your eyes on me.

Your eyes said, “What do you need? I will give you the world right now.”

Your body immediately turned my direction and you took steps closer to me like you were trying to save me from a fall.

But your mouth said, “yes?”

I’ve longed to see those eyes again. My heart remains empty to feel so important. To feel so loved.

So I battle with You, Lord. I ask you to come through and fill that space but time and time again, I’m empty.

Instead, you show me where those feelings are rooted from. You show me everyday in so many ways why my emptiness wasn’t about pasta eyes at all.

My question is, what do I do with the truth now?

God: I’m allowing life to let you feel empty. All this chaos has been approved by Me. Let me explain:

The solution to your emptiness is and will always be Me. I love you the most. I look at you with pasta eyes every single minute of every single day. But I know your heart. And as much as you know this to be the truth, it is not enough for you. Since I am a good father, I will let you feel empty enough that when it finally clicks that I love you the most, you will feel it. And it will feel so big, you could never forget it again. In the meantime, I will hold on to you and keep you from the plan of the enemy. Because the enemy will exploit your emptiness and will promise to fill your pain. But the result is to push you further away from me.

I wont allow it.

Love Thy Neighbor

Love my neighbor as I love myself.

I won’t let myself starve.

I won’t let myself go naked.

I won’t leave myself stranded.

I won’t leave myself in anguish or despair.

I Pretty much won’t allow myself to die from hunger or expose myself to danger
But.

My love for myself isn’t perfect.

I am hard on myself.

Less forgiving towards my misdeeds.

I’m impatient with me.

I’m mean and demanding towards my spirit.

My self talk is almost abusive.

I tell myself there is no excuse for slacking and punish myself when I’m disobedient to my own high demands.

So is it really safe for my neighbor if I treat them as I treat myself?

God: I remember when I knit every strand of your personality together. I was overjoyed to see it come to life. When I blew into your lungs and saw your eyes open for the first time, I knew what I made was perfect. I know the enemy wanted to destroy what I worked so hard to create so he made it his mission to slam open every single door you leave cracked open. His goal is to stir darkness into you – my beautiful vessel. But even if it may seem as though he has succeeded, I am powerful enough to turn whatever he has done into something beautiful. No, your love for yourself is not perfect. But My love for humanity is.

Enough

Am I good enough?

Am I pretty enough?

Am I a good enough friend?

Am I a good enough human?

Anyone ever asked what is used to measure “enough”?. How does one determine when enough has been met. Has anyone ever sat down and said “I have had enough”? Unless, of course, the standard of “enough” is measured by one’s self. See, I know when I drank enough water. I know when I have eaten enough food. I know when I’ve had enough of disrespect.

But I cant measure what ‘enough’ is to you. It’s like chasing the wind. It’s like gathering all the water in the ocean into my arms. Its like mowing the lawn with scissors.

It only makes sense to measure enough with my own standards even if its regarding you.

And then I laugh at myself because I’m so empathetic that I’m very cautious on how I make other people feel and I’m back again at measuring “enough” by chasing the wind.

I guess I found another vicious cycle for the books. Just like the round behind earth we live in.