The world can make anyone go hard. Any given situation can make any one person jaded beyond belief. These people will stand tall like statues and come crashing down whenever they feel like it. Or, it can turn people to putty, and we can play with the remains and mold them into whatever we want. There will always be a sharp contrast on how the world molds us each individually into stagnant, never-changing stones or flimsy, breakable play-dough. And it doesn’t matter our circumstances. Some of the worst people I know have lived full, seemingly happy lives. They’ve lived with their parents under the same roof, been financially secure, blah blah blah. Statistics are never going to prove the humanity in people, and we shouldn’t rely on backgrounds to tell us who others are.
I am soft. I like to come off as a statue. I like to build myself up high and enjoy my pretend wrath over my pretend kingdom, but the world is too big for me. I’m a small clay sculpture, made by the even tinier child within me, as a fort against the rest of the world. It’s me and her together, trying to act bigger than we are to make a difference possibly bigger than we could ever achieve. One day I might harden. One day the child might be stuck in here. Maybe she already is, I don’t know. All I know is that I want to do her bidding, and she wants to save the world. Like that’s possible.