The world is an overwhelming place. Every time I reach for my phone, I am blown away by the magnitude of the connections I have made in my short time on this Earth. Every time I scroll through my Instagram feed, I can’t help but notice how beautiful, and talented, and courageous, and hard-working all of my friends (and people I don’t know, but admire) are. And it’s insanely overwhelming. Not to mention, greatly intimidating.
And then I think of my own place in it all, and how much it really matters to have a classification inside of this media storm. This world of up-and-comers. Of dreamers, and do-gooders, and beauty queens. Of rebels, and Christ-worshippers, and flamboyant trailblazers.
Do I live a quiet life of service, or a loud one of change at every turn?
I think of how I have consciously been putting people into categories my entire life; stoner fort kids, asians, gays, sorority girls and frat guys, white trash neighbor friends, “restaurant” friends, rich, boring, Christians…
When all I’ve ever seemed to want for myself is to never fit into any of these categories. Or any category at all. I just wanted to be Tori. And I didn’t know how to be that if I didn’t belong to something, or everything all at once.
I’m not sure how to distance myself from the competition and the fury of it all, when part of me knows I can’t live without the fire of becoming greater. better. bigger.
It’s the selfish, maddening part of being me, and sometimes I wish it would be quiet and happy with just being small and important to few.
But who really wants to be small in this world?
Who is content to be important to just a few?
“I believe in that line from An Imperial Affliction. ‘The risen sun too bright in her losing eyes.’ That’s God I think, the rising sun, and the light is too bright and her eyes are losing, but they aren’t lost…”