Rueshmel Martinez

            When I was a child, the grown ups always described the world as something so beautiful. They spoke about it like a field full of green grasses and fully bloomed flowers, with singing birds and sunlight that lightly kissed my face as the warm breeze gently blew, tickling my skin as I sat atop the high mountains. They said I could play around like how the butterflies fly and reach my dreams that are as high as the clouds in the sky. They said that I have a great future ahead and it will be a life full of smiles like how the moon and stars shine, twinkling bright even in the darkest night. As I grew up, I realized that it’s more like a field of thorns, the cold breeze sweeping away the warm feeling I used to have. I came to know that those words they said were all lies.

          As someone who was born with a disability, it’s been hard for me to hold onto who I am. I studied hard at a very young age, I learned to dance, paint, draw, write, read, play instruments, and do sports. I did all this with the hope that it would change the perspective of people about me, but nothing ever changed. They always treated me like a withered flower and watered me an overflowing amount of hurtful words that made me numb. I forgot how to make friends, how to smile, how to relax, how to talk to people, and who I really am. My heart was screaming through my chest but no one ever cared. I focused on trying to please others as much as I could. I tried my very best to fit into the standards created by this society, so much so that I hid my real self and buried it, watching as the smiles and dreams I’ve collected drowned into the ocean of tears and sadness. The darkness slowly gnawed me away and finally swallowed me whole. I wanted to give up, but just as I was about to, they found me.

            Finally, someone who understood what I was feeling and going through. They parted the dark clouds and showed me the sky in its perfect hue. The bright sun slowly peaked through, lighting up the place that the darkness once consumed. They understood my pain and wounds. They treated me like a friend, like a sister. They filled my garden with nothing but happiness. They are the flowers that painted this dead field with colors. Like the dandelions, they gave me hope. Like the sunflower, they filled me with happiness. Like the lily of the valley, they gave me comfort. Like the myrtle, they gave me only the prettiest memory. Like a gladiolus, they gave me strength. For that, I thank God, the mightiest of all, for giving me another chance to bloom by giving me them. Because of this, I learned something. Flowers need to go through winter to bloom beautifully. In this garden of lies where every tear, fear and pain lies, where everyone pretends to be perfectly fine, you can’t grow alone, so find someone that can help you bloom as the prettiest of all.

Rueshmel Martinez, 17 years of age, started taking interest in different art styles at a very young age of 3, filling her school notes with flattering words and drawings. Now having art as her escape through reality where she can be who she wants to be and express her feelings.

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