Dead Leaves Pull Harder

Trees have leaves; obviously. Though have you ever noticed that sometimes it’s just as hard, if not harder to pull a dead leaf off than a fresh one?
This is sort of how life works; newer things in your life are easier to separate yourself from, whereas something that’s been in your life for awhile is harder to detach from. I thought to myself that all these leaves, are attached to trees that give the leaves life; even still, leaves die. It reminded me, that not all things that appear to benefit you, truly do or will in the long haul. As far as people go, we sometimes cling to what we want or what we need; in the most harsh of cases we lose our morals, our minds, our hearts, or our life. Sometimes it’s not even our choice to be a leaf on a certain tree.

There is an upside though.. While leaves die, and crunch under your feet during the Fall, don’t they also come back in the Spring? You may lose your color and be a detached leaf on the ground, but there’s a new bloom just around the corner. Maybe you’re meant to be knocked down to be picked up.

Truth be told, you can crumble like a leaf many times attached to your tree of life. You just have to decide whether or not to bloom again.


What You Put Out, Must Be You.. Yes?


It’s a harsh reality we live in where the only depth of a person we know is what they choose to dish out to the world; for an example, I post some sad things, some gloomy things, some have even put it as, “a bit serious for my age.” The truth is yes, at a fundamental level I do believe the things I put into the world, and sometimes I do drown in a puddle of bitter-sweetness called emotions; and if you want to consider me a one-dimensional person you may think I’m completely burdened by my life. The truth is that -as a dimensional human being like everyone else that rests on this planet- I’m not all doom and gloom; it’s human nature to rant about your day, and drawing and writing are both therapeutic ways for me to vent. I’m sorry that I find it difficult to write about how luminous the red flowers were in my garden today, and instead I wrote about how I burned my feet on asphalt; but pain has to come out somehow. On another personal note, I prefer to keep my happy memories to myself; those are cherished moments of my life, and I’d rather have them in my memory than be plastered all over the world; then that brings up, “Well, why would you only want your negativity broadcasted to the world?” Because it’s completely covered up through prose and poetic words. At least I can pretty up my wrongs with colors and words; you can’t cover up when the greatest moments of your life crumble beneath your very feet. Yes, this is a ramble, this is a rant; no pretty words or poetic prose.

It just needs to be said that the surface of everything is not where the greatest things lie or where the best is really revealed; the surface of the ocean can be indigo and flat, but it is the bright creatures underneath that tell the story.

The Result of Acting Against Fear


Fear has a way of clouding judgement; like producing this gigantic veil that’s so translucent you don’t even realize it’s there. All my life this veil has plagued every one one of my ventures, from birth to now. Everything to me has always had some underlying bad thing connected to it, and that veil increases when the anxiety brick hits me.

My classes are where my attitude towards fear has been shifted. They set their classes up as little live lessons; all the teachers and all the students for a particular class meet to discuss what’s due for the week, and go over tough lessons. There are always parts within these lessons, where students can contribute opinions or read part of the lesson.

Having been a student there for three years now, I’ve volunteered here and there, but  anxiety constantly got the best of me; heart starts pounding out my chest and my whole body shakes endlessly. So I refrained from nothing more than commenting in our little chat-box. Recently, however, my attitude has shifted. I’ve pushed myself to start talking in the chat more, talking to the other students, taking the whiteboard in situations when I know I’m capable. I wasn’t expecting anyone to take notice, -or perhaps it’s just because I rarely did it before- but I got so much approval from my fellow classmates and teachers. One teacher even reached out to say she was glad I participated more.

And my most recent painting and the post I made for it.. I was so skeptical of whether it was worth posting. It can be a difficult thing to manifest something you think is worth talking about over the internet, without feeling like you’ll be criticized just for speaking your mind. The post has actually gained much traction, which was so uplifting to me because I didn’t try to veil my opinion in it. It was just simply me speaking like I would to anybody.

What I’ve learned -from the brief weeks of undergoing this established “experiment”- is that sometimes fear takes the place of the unknown. It can take place where you’d initially have no feeling, so fear creeps its way into the crevices and devours the moment. While fear of the common things that are always overplayed and overrated in movies shouldn’t be overlooked, there comes a time and a place when fear needs to get shoved back down into the hole it belongs in. It may be just as surprising to you as it was to me to find the winsome outcomes that can come along with it; like realizing the potential that you have in yourself.

No Comparison

Everyone experiences pain in their own way. A bobby-pin prick could be as painful to one person, as falling off your bed is to another. It bothers me when I see comparisons made between, “who had it worse?” and “you’ll never experience my pain.”

The matter of it is, no one can have it necessarily worse than another; you can’t compare pain when it’s unique to the individual. It could be true; they’d never feel your pain through what you experienced but that doesn’t mean that hurt won’t be inflicted upon them some other way. Some people can be more emotionally or physically damaged than others, and most people operate under the premise of, “If I can’t see it, it’s not that bad.” so emotional scaring is one most people take for granted in discussions.

Everyone trudges through their own hell; whether it be abuse, divorce, belittling, bullying, treachery, or simply your own mind and self is caving in. Can you really put those things side by side and say one inflicts more damage than another?

With all this in mind, I’d love to see such a change where we don’t belittle the things that hurt others, but rather bring the person out of its shell. Hollow out the grave which they were put into. Break apart the icicle that surrounds their life. Help give them a warm glow of something meaningful, helpful; something to remind them there is such a glorious fire of love in the world. There’s such a mix of good and evil in the world, and picking apart someone’s problems like they mean nothing just feeds into the abyss. There’s always a choice to be on the good parallel, to make problems known and to help others through it. I know which side I’m on;

do you?


“The world is a mess and I want to laugh because all I can think is how horrible and beautiful it is.” – Tahereh Mafi, Ignite Me







Is Everyone Being Heard Correctly?

There’s something intriguing in someone having a talent; even more-so when the talent is meant as a getaway or form of expression. Do we only have “talents” because we were forced to find a way to express ourselves?

Often people have a hard time being up-front about how they are feeling, even if the common nature of people is to talk about themselves. It occurred to me today that I’ve met a multitude of people who have -what most people would regard as- not having any sort of specific talent to their persona; and it hit me that most of the time these human beings tend to be straightforward and sincere. They have no need for a personal outlet because they are their own personal outlet.

Yet the people that sit with an inner mind full of turmoil that always have thoughts flowing through their head that they either never speak of or never have the time too, have a way of expression. Music, laughter, writing, art, magic, beauty, crafting, creating, cooking, sports, all become ways for said person to say what they need to say when they can’t actually verbalize it.

However, what if it is just simply wrong to dote on the fact that talents need to be so grand? Why can’t a talent be wiggling your toes, or catching your phone when you throw it up? What if by making the word “talent” seem like such a big deal, you force the people who are usually forthright, to subject themselves to some sort of creative hobby in order to be heard?

In a world where creativity is all around us at the touch of our fingertips, it can be easy to skip over the people who have something to say, but you ignore their words because you’d rather interpret it through a “talent” rather than actually listen. Because why waste time, in a universe that thrives off of five second attention spans?

And even further, are we subjecting the ones with creative hobbies to constantly be posting and showing more of their “talent”? Those things were created by them for them, in order to be free of their thoughts, not so you could get a daily dose into the mind of them;  we make them create in order for them to say something, but anyone can run out of words.

So I sit on the threshold of a question; is it better to be the talker who no one can hear, or to be the creator who creates for a puppeteer?



How Someone Chooses To Love

It amuses me at this age to see someone get mad at there significant person when they feel out of touch when it comes to love; it’s usually the same thing that is said every-time, “I feel like I put so much effort into this thing we call a relationship, and they never give me anything.” In reality it’s because you set yourself up for failure. You can put as much love into anything as you feel necessary, but expecting the same back is not being truthful. The feeling of let-down that happens in situations like these is that people think that if they put enough love in someones heart, they are going to get the same kind of love reciprocated back; but how can you ask someone who’s completely different from you to love like you do?

Now I will say I’m excluding scenarios where the relationship is volatile and the other person most likely doesn’t carry as heavy of a feeling for you as you do for them. I’m talking in which two people really do care for another, but they love in different ways.

There are the kinds of people who put meaning in everything; every tiny morsel of themselves is immersed in making the other happy through grand gestures. Then you have the kinds of people who give their love through little things, like doing laundry, listening to your day, or doing the dishes; they see them as simple gestures but they know it makes your life easier. Sometimes it’s the little things you don’t catch, or the big gestures will throw you off because you think they’re being too much too fast.

Everyone loves things in their own way, and this is not to say they love more or less in any regard of how said person chooses to show their intrigue. Just don’t set the expectations of what you do for somebody to what you think they should be doing; because they could be doing it, you just expected the same love you’ve always surrounded yourself with. Your own.







Love Yourself, But Nourish The Good Parts

I think the ability for someone to be comfortable in their skin is something of a profound nature; it’s not easy to love absolutely everything about yourself, but it can be simple to accept them.

I believe the concept of “loving all and everything about you” remains unattainable. You aren’t going to like all the parts of your self -whether physical, mental, or spiritual- just as you don’t appreciate every single quality in others; but you do learn to accept other peoples “flaws”, right?

It will tear you down to pick apart the things you don’t like about yourself; don’t try to change aspects that you cannot fix by inherent nature. For instance, I don’t especially appreciate that I was born with my mothers high hips and chocolaty brown eyes, but I can’t change either of those factors; though over the years I’ve learned to accept them. I didn’t learn to accept them because someone said they love my eyes, or because I’m complimented on my figure; I learned them by spending time in the mirror, thinking about how I’m the only individual with my rich brown eyes paired with my short torso and high hips. They are aspects of me that make me the unique skeleton of a person called Madison.

No one else besides you carries around the ability to make yourself comfortable in your own skin when you are alone or with others. You start little; maybe you like the shape of your hands, or the depth of your cupids bow, and think about how unique that is to you. Appreciate that every curve and every line that makes up your body is like a piece of art; there’s only one original in the world. You don’t have to love your whole self, but you can like the little things here and there that come together to make you, and take into consideration that what your mind perceives as imperfections may have been subconsciously put there; if we weren’t surrounded by billions of people to compare ourselves too, I highly doubt we would find imperfections in ourselves.

You have the ability to nourish the physical aspect of yourself when you aren’t surrounded by the endeavors of anothers negativity.