Conformity

Life is a series of deaths and awakenings. The dying and rebirth cycles are evidence of progress. It's something I've learned to enjoy.

My father died a little over a 2 months ago. Life was a dark time then. I took a hiatus from life to be with my dying father. Although the last few months of my father's life were the most intimate we shared, they were also the moments that aptly exposed how distant of a relationship we had.

His death bookended the dark age of my life. From my mother's death to my father's I had been in arrested development. This stagnant period stemmed from my inability to understand why my father was so cold to me. Cold on a deep mind-fuck level.

He never told me why. But my curious sister found the letters that explained it all. Reading those letters and realizing how little I mattered to my father was hard to digest, but it explained everything and confirmed that I was not crazy, as I had been lead to believe. That was a relief.

I should be picking up scattered pieces, but I find myself completely intact. I'm in shock.

It is like learning to walk all over again. Nothing but my own caution is holding me back.

There is strength in not conforming. It's unconventional. Its like the tree that bends in the wind, it appears weak and lowly, but it persists as the more rigid trees are broken around it. It's branches reach to the sun and not the saplings around it.

Every tree stands on its own. All that matters is the beliefs its rooted in.

Refusing to conform is harsh way to describe being true to yourself. Live an honest life. It may mean getting used to solitude, but you'll never have to wake up and realize your entire existence is a lie.