Sincerely, Hope

Dear World and Everyone In It,
This is who I am.
Accept it.

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*Note: I started this blog because of my Creative Writing class in the Spring of 2016. It was an assignment to start and maintain a blog. As a part of this, we had to write and upload certain posts. You’ll recognize them as the posts that seem somewhat out of place.

This was one of those posts. In fact, this was the main assignment for our blogging unit: an “About Me” post. It’s much more difficult than you think. Surprisingly enough, I’m a very uninteresting person with a very bad memory. Not to mention, not many events in my life were very noteworthy, and I didn’t want my post to be all about traveling.

So, I decided to play with the idea and make it unique. The result was this. If you plan to read beyond this note, I would just like to warn you that it doesn’t really focus on the usual “Who am I” stuff. Rather, it’s written as a letter to the world where I tell it to stop judging me because this is me.

You won’t learn about my likes and dislikes in this post, or anything like that. Instead, you’ll see the true me in the writing itself. The way it’s written. What I say about myself. If you really want to know who I am, then this is your best shot. Thank you for visiting my blog, and good luck.


Dear World and Everyone in it,

You don’t understand me.

You don’t know me, not in the slightest, and it seems to me that you don’t care to know me. You don’t care who I am, just who you want me to be, who you think I should be. So, I have one thing to say to you.

Iridescent.

When asked to describe myself in one word, that’s the one I choose.

Not “hope” because my name is Hope and name puns are soooooo funny! (I hope you caught that sarcasm). Not “oblivious” because, according to you, I miss everything. Not “hippy” because I like flowers and there’s nothing to me other than flowers. Definitely not “immature” because you think I’m a child and should be treated as such. And don’t ever say it’s “stupid,” because I am not stupid.

128
The second time I gave my hair to Locks of Love.

But at the same time, I can’t accurately say that I’m anything else. I am not always “wise,” as a few of you see me. I am not always “loyal,” though I’ve proven myself to be many times over. I am not always “selfless,” no matter how much I give. I am not always “mature,” or “creative,” or “brave.” I am not always anything.

At the end of the day, it depends on who you ask.

I am iridescent. According to Google, iridescent means “showing luminous colors that seem to change when seen from different angles.” And trust me, there isn’t a word in the world that describes me better than that.

(If that doesn’t make sense, check out my poem Iridescent. I don’t know if it will help, but you never know. I wrote it based on this idea.)

You see, somehow, every person — or group of people, in some cases — who has ever known me, you included, has formed a different and unique version, or perspective, of who I am. No two perspectives match, and not a single one is spot on.

Now you see why I’m so fascinated with the idea of perspectives.

043
Little old me, riding the Griffin statue that I claimed was my pet…

I usually use these different perspectives to hide myself, to keep anyone from figuring me out. The real me isn’t always someone I want people to see. In fact, when I was younger, I was ashamed of the real me. I was ashamed because of you. Because you never accepted the real me. Because I was too crazy, too thoughtful, too different, and you didn’t want anything to do with me. Did I scare you? Did you see me as a threat? Little old me, just trying to find a way in this place, a threat

And I guess that’s when I created my windows and walls, when I started hiding parts of myself. I suppose I never managed to hide the same things every time, because all of this happened. But you can’t blame me for all of this, because it’s your fault.

So, I’m giving you the chance to redeem yourself.

All I’ve ever truly wanted is acceptance. Not as someone else, but as myself.

In the hopes that I might finally be free, I am choosing to be vulnerable. Right here and now, I am opening myself up to you. I am giving you a great deal of my trust, trust that I rarely give. Do not abuse it. It’s more fragile than you could ever know.

This is who I am.

Sincerely,

Hope


 

Dear World and Everyone In It,

I’ll give you some friendly advice.

124
My brother and I attempting to paint a new house.

Within these letters, I’ve included pictures. For the most part, they don’t seem to fit in. They seem random.

However, you should already know, a picture’s worth a thousand words.

If you want to figure out the depth of who I am, pay attention to the pictures. They tell my story, my real story, the story of me beyond what I can say and beyond a pretty face.

Because, I promise you. I am much, much more than a pretty face.

Get it? Got it?

Good.

Sincerely,

Hope


 

Dear World and Everyone In It,

I am a Highly Sensitive Person.

Yes, HSP (which is the abbreviation for it) is a real thing. It occurs in around 20% of humans and has been found in over 100 other different species. It is an innate trait, and it is 100% me.

If you want proof that I am HSP, I almost starting bawling in the middle of my creative writing class when I learned about it. Yes, bawling. There were tears in my eyes and my throat was tight, and I had to take several deep breaths to hold it all in.

From ipone 271
Me modeling a giant flower at a store.

Why was I so emotional, you may ask? Simple. I’m an incredibly emotional person, so I was already on the brink of a breakdown because I couldn’t figure out how to explain who I am. Then this happened, and my world was basically turned inside out because it matched me perfectly.

It took so many things about me that I couldn’t explain to other people and summarized them all into three simple words. Years of trying to figure out why I react to things so extremely, why I notice details other people never notice, why the five senses impact me so deeply… All explained in three words.

Highly Sensitive Person.

This also explains why I see so much beauty in everything.

244
Me modeling a fantastic yellow life vest and rubber boots in Ecuador.

It is important to note that not all HSPs are emotional roller coasters. Most are far more easy-going than me. At least, I think that’s the case… I’m guessing I’m just on the more extreme side of things.

And, quite obviously, HSP is not the equivalent of an introvert, seeing as I’m an introvert-extrovert mix.

My creative writing teacher, who is also HSP, was the one who introduced me to this term. She pulled up this blog called hsperson.com and talked to the class about it a bit, then gave us some free time to explore the site ourselves if we so pleased. Obviously, I chose to explore it.

I highly suggest you check out this blog, especially if you think you might be HSP. Seriously, it could change your entire world.

It changed mine.

Sincerely,

Hope


 

Dear World and Everyone In It,

I am a perfectionist.

It’s not something I can control. I just want everything to be right, to be the best it can possibly be.

017
Me on Fort Myers Beach, a split second before my grand wipe-out.

Is that such a crime?

I admit, sometimes I get carried away. I spend hours on a single project that should only take a few minutes, just because I think it could be a little bit better if I change a few things.

Sometimes I succeed. Sometimes I don’t.

I actually had about a dozen panic attacks while trying to plan this post and write it. I think this is my seventh draft started from scratch. I won’t even try to count how many times I revised each draft… But honestly, it turned out better than it would have if I had stuck to the first draft, so who can say my perfectionist tendencies are bad?

Though at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter what you think or even what I think. I can’t help being a perfectionist. It’s not something I can control or change about myself. It’s just a part of me.

It’s likely that my perfectionist qualities developed from my childhood. My parents have always pushed me to have the absolute best grades, and though that’s not a bad thing, it’s been… hard, to say the least. My entire life, I was faced with the constant questions of why do you have a B in this class? Why is it not an A? What are you going to do to bring it up?

025
Our family photo on Fort Myers Beach.

Yes, it’s been frustrating.

But no, I’m not mad at my parents for it.

They were only doing what they thought best. And honestly, I’m glad they raised me this way. I think I’m a better person because of it. I never settle for mediocre and always strive for the best, which is a way of life everyone should follow.

Actually, if I’m to be mad at anyone, it should be you. You who see this part of me as negative (Psychology Today is the perfect example), you who tell me that I should feel shame.

You, who taught me to hate myself because I want to be the best I can be.

Thank you, world.

And you wonder why I hide.

Sincerely,

Hope


 

Dear World and Everyone In It,

I am Attention Deficit.

Not stupid. Not oblivious. Not immature.

062
My brother fast asleep with his giant tiger. That’s me in the background.

In fifth grade, I was diagnosed with Attention Deficit Disorder, ADD for short. By now, it’s probably more like ADHD, but being diagnosed with ADHD wouldn’t do anything more for me. I’d still be taking the same exact medicine, still be living the same exact life, just with a different term to define my disorder.

Disorder. How I hate that word.

I won’t go into detail about this. I already posted an entire story that goes through my life before and after being diagnosed with ADD. You can read it here.

062
The door to one of my past rooms, which we tore out during one of our moves.

Otherwise, you just need to know that it isn’t stupidity that makes me slow. It’s the constant noise that fills the world, that’s always ringing in my ears and drawing my attention away.

It isn’t obliviousness that keeps me from noticing the big picture. It’s all the little details in the world that I notice and focus in on, but you seem to be oblivious to.

And it isn’t immaturity that causes me to act like a child. It’s my mind running in a million places at once, unable to focus on anything, yet focusing on everything, all at the same time.

It’s not easy being me. So just… Stop acting like there’s something wrong with me. Please. There’s nothing wrong with me, my mind just works differently than everyone else’s.

I’m just… me. So stop judging me and try to understand who I am for once.

Sincerely,

Hope


 

Dear World and Everyone In It,

This is who I am.

From ipone 022
My best friend and I posing in our formal attire.

Accept it.

I’m tired of trying to be someone else,

so I’m just gonna be myself.

Say whatever you want to say.

I don’t care.

At the end of the day,

this is me.

Not the person you say I should be.

You only ever saw me through windows,

while walls blocked most of your view.

You don’t know me.

You’ve never known me.

So stop trying to control me

because it won’t work.

Not anymore.

I’m done pretending.

It’s time I stepped outside

041
Honestly, I don’t even know…

and let the world see me

for me.

I’m proud to be me.

I’m proud to be unique.

I’m ready to be vulnerable.

So ready or not,

here I come.

This is the real me.

Sincerely,

Hope.

 

Author: Hope Alexandra Cullers

I'm an aspiring writer and relatively seasoned traveler who only wishes to see, experience, and learn more. I'm ADD, HSP, a perfectionist, and an extroverted introvert. I'm crazy about the idea of perspectives, find joy in the little things, and make it my personal mission to see the beauty is everything. Welcome to my blog, and thank you for taking the time to visit! Remember, carpe diem!

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