Tags

, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

I was bullied immensely as a young child up until around the start of high school. I was “different” in the young minds of others. I enjoyed the things most young girls didn’t. I played rough with the boys, enjoyed trading Pokemon cards at recess and rarely brushed my gold locks. I never stuffed my bra, I never painted my nails, I never said mean things about other girls. I never went with the flow, I always swam against it. I always heard the whispers of those around me but I never thought much of it at first. It started with whispers, proceeded to shoves and then to the face to face confrontation. I never fought back though. Make love not war – something I’ve believed in since I was a child.

Instead of fighting back I would escape. I created a world of my own where I was a wolf. A black wolf to be exact. And a princess.

I started with large rolling green hills painted with budding flowers and tall trees that towered in the background. Beyond the green vast were monstrous snow-caped mountains that crept over the warm valleys as if they were to crash down and cover the lands in winter, which they never did. The forests seemed endless as I imagined myself on all four black legs, sprinting and dodging the trees and logs. The sun shone bright in the sky, surrounded by puffy pink and white clouds that looked soft enough to eat. There were multiple moons at night, but the focus of the dark sky was the millions of bright stars that gave light to the valley like a crystal chandelier in a ball room. The village was large and always awake. It had a medieval charm to it, nothing really technological and created with warm, neutral browns and reds. Simple but beautiful. The ocean was always nearby, close enough that you could hear the crashing of the white waves against the hot sands. From my palace you could see the deep blue ocean stretch farther and farther away from my fingertip as I pointed out towards it. 

I called this place Mazara.

I continued to escape to Mazara every day. Whenever I was there, I couldn’t hear the whispers or feel the shoves. I began to convince myself I was truly from Mazara and my parents had sent me to this “realm” (Earth) to escape a dark evil that was taking over the land but someday I would magically return and live out my life as the black wolf princess.

Silly and childish I know, but something that has kept me going strong all these years. Sometimes I still tell myself that I truly am from this beautiful place and that is why I am never actually happy while I’m here on Earth. I know it’s childish thinking but I never failed to visit my imagination and find happiness there despite that when I came back I was surrounded by melancholy.

When the time comes and I have my own children I will tell them many stories about Mazara and I will encourage them to create their own “realm” that we can write stories about and escape to together under the covers with our flashlights, paper and pens.

You should never forget about your imagination or let reality diminish the use of it. Imagination is a powerful tool of surviving life and I refuse to ever let anyone taint mine. Those who don’t use their minds in the way I use mine are often cold and ill-hearted. They don’t look at me the way I look at others with my love and kindness. We will always live in a world with cruel people who just want to hurt others. What do I do about it?

I escape to Mazara.