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gr-dients-blog · 9 years ago

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The Ring

I received my first crown at age 5. I was a theatre kid, passionate about the arts ever since I was young. Of course, not everyone understood what it was, and I get teased quite often because I was a nerd, an outcast. But at that time, I didn’t care. I was a little diva, adored by some, hated by others. (Quite interesting, however, my mother oftentimes told me that I had a heart of gold, telling me of my escapades helping people when I was younger. Guess I never outgrew the habit).

My first crown was a beautiful one, small, gold with a few jewels; enough to keep a toddler happy long enough to say her lines. It was amazing. Not long after that, another crown went my way. Bigger and grander with more jewels my little could never have imagined. I loved it to death. I even remember the first time I went to make up for my role!

I always played the part of a princess… maybe it’s where I got the preposterous idea that I was, too, a princess.

During that major play, I was Belle, and ever since then I, and most of my family associated Belle to me.

But after that it was kind of a standstill, you know? It wasn’t as if I was looking for fame or glory (at that time), I guess I was just looking for reassurance that even if I was me, I was still a princess.

I’m still not sure if I believe that I am.

My third crown is a special one. One that I never thought I would have had in a million years. It started as a joke, really. I told her a list of things I would have wanted to have and to happen on my birthday. In that list, were 4 pictures of a ring shaped like a crown. In all honesty, I forgot about the list and the conversation we had that night, but she had not. I was only vaguely aware that she was looking for the ring because she asked me where could she purchase that. And I just vaguely dismissed it because I knew it could not be found anywhere near here, or in the country for that matter.

Come the day of my birth, to my surprise, there it was, a box shaped like a jewel and it housed the most beautiful ring I have ever seen.

I screamed. It was true.

I was so proud of that ring, you know. I would enthusiastically tell people its origins when asked, and I would gladly tell people that it was her who gave it. I would never leave the house without it, built a routine so I wouldn’t forget, no matter how much of an airhead I was.

I’ve got weird looks during tournaments, how I always bring its case, and I would always dock the ring in the case when the day ends. I’ve never joined a tournament without it. Call it a lucky thing, or just something familiar that makes me grounded; and would make me believe that I can do it.

I loved that ring to bits.

Moments where I just forgotten it at home, I felt incomplete, like I was naked and I couldn’t protect myself. Nothing was grounding me. I couldn’t even wear my watch without my ring. I built so many defence mechanisms – mannerisms with that ring. And despite the fact that some of my clothes have all these runs and stray thread, the weird stares, the moments where it gets caught in anything, I loved it. I kept wearing it.

Till the day where I didn’t.

I thought I was strong enough to leave it. At first I thought I had to, like it was integral to my growth, my moving on, to not clinging to someone who I thought were not as invested in this as I am. To that, maybe I’m right. To not wearing it? It was one of the hardest things I’ve done.

Don’t get me wrong. I was successful. But it took as much willpower as it does when I don’t want to cut. As much willpower as me stopping myself from talking to her no matter how much I would love to.

Jesus chrst, I’m an idiot.

I don’t even know why I did that.

But now I’m realizing that even if my everyday life is easier without something so precious to mind, I’m empty. I’m unhappy.

Maybe wearing it will let me believe I can do things again. Like be close to her again.

#thoughts #could be made into a fuller essay #queenrealness #july2015

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