My Orange Backpack

I walk the streets with my orange backpack. I know I don't look my age and by people's standards, I am not a day over 19. It's a good compliment I'll hang on to once the wrinkles set in and my skin looses its firm, olive beauty. I know I'm foreign- looking, though most people can't pinpoint an exact ethnicity. I seem young and fresh; by the looks of me, no one would know the turmoil my very soul has experienced. My eyes have witnessed events most people will never encounter in their lifetime. My heart is wiser and knows the perils we face when we allow ourselves to fall in love.

It's almost as if the last 5 years didn't happen. I hardly kept a journal during those years for fear that my writings would tell what my lips would not dare speak. Instead, I kept everything inside and avoided writing. It was harmful, spiritually and otherwise. But my youth got the best of me.
So as I journey the waters of life, I feel the happiness set in. I know unabashed joy and have met true goodness... But this all feels ruined when a trigger goes off and only my eyes allow themselves to show the pain my mind is racked with. Hundreds of emotions run vividly through my closed eyes and sometimes it becomes too hard to leave them be. I let the grief wash over me. I allow myself moments of torture until I lose track of time. Gone are my days of innocence. Of course, I recover eventually and pick myself up by my bootstraps.

I've loved and I've lost. I've gambled and toyed with emotions and only now am I beginning to understand what those memories hold.

There is strength to be drawn from our weakest moments. I am a new woman; the old Ruby wouldn't have been able to handle this. My emotions are invigorating. When I laugh, I feel all of my sense draw together and it's a new body experience. I no longer do anything halfway. I'm either 100% into it or not at all. It's frightening for me to live so openly; yet I'm thrilled with the discoveries.

I sit in a cafe, alone with my thoughts, and pleasantly smile at the people who glance at me. They see a young woman working towards a bright future with finesse. How thankful I am for their belief even though they don't know me at all. It instills a desire in me to prove that I am someone strong... even if the only person I'm trying to prove anything to is my inner skeptic.