ARTIST: Whitney Houston
TRACK: “I Look To You”
As I lay me down,
Heaven hear me now.
I’m lost without a cause,
after giving it my all.
Winter storms have come,
and darkened my sun.
After all that I’ve been through,
who on earth can I turn to?
I look to you. I look, to you.
After all my strength is gone,
in you, I can be strong.
I look to you.
And when the melodies are gone,
in you, I hear a song.
I look to you.
‘Bout to lose my breath.
There’s no more fighting left.
Sinking to rise no more,
searching for that open door.
And every road that I’ve taken–
led to my regret.
And I don’t know if I’m gonna make it.
Nothing to do but lift my head.
I look to you.
All my levees have broken.
My walls have come, tumbling down on me.
The rain is falling,
the fear is calling.
I need you to set me free.
Take me far away from the battle.
I need you to shine on me.
After all my strength is gone,
in you I can be strong.
I look to you…
Those are lyrics from a song off of Whitney Houston’s final album that I can’t seem to stop listening to. It’s sad, what happened with her. A shame, really. She was too young to die, you know? But unfortunately, none of that seems to matter these days. I know they haven’t officially declared her cause of death, but if you ask me–I think Hollywood killed her. That over the years, it’d been slowly draining the life right out of her. Aside from having seen the “Bodyguard”, I haven’t followed her music career too much–but I have read and heard a lot about the things that she’d been going through all these years, like with the drugs and whatnot. Again, I find it sad. A lot of people are saying that she brought a lot of it on by herself, but I don’t think that’s necessarily true. I mean, it doesn’t take a genius to know how cutthroat Hollywood and fame can be. It’s brutal. Having your name and face everywhere–I couldn’t do it, that’s for sure. I wouldn’t if I could.
I like my privacy. And my secrets. Very much. It’s ironic, I know, considering how I wear my heart and emotions on my sleeves like I do–but I don’t do that so much these days. I guess you could say that I learned my lesson, and I guess that I did. I’m far more guarded now than I used to be. I’ve put up more walls and as far as trust goes–I’m not sure I even believe in the word anymore. Or love, for that matter. I mean, I know it exists–I’ve felt it–but I’m just not sure it’s worth it–or that it lasts. Because of that, I keep everyone at arm’s length–my friends, my family, and yes–men. Speaking of, things are going good right now in that area. Really good. 😉 I just don’t think I want to screw that up just yet by adding all the serious stuff like love and commitment and god forbid, the future. Maybe that’s a messed up way of thinking, but it is what it is. It’s safe. But then again, safe is a hell of a lot better than being reckless and ending up broken and used when the dust has settled– a HELL of a lot better. I’m 24 years old. I’m still young. And life is short–so short. Maybe it’s not the best course of action, but I just want to take as much advantage of it while I still can. So that’s what I’m doing. I’m taking it one day at a time. And whatever happens…happens. I don’t want to be the puppet master, pulling the strings in my life–I’d rather just leave all of that up to fate. If it’s meant to be and all…then it’ll be. Right?
As for Whitney, I just think that she got caught up in it all. I wonder if it’s what she expected. The fame, the fortune–I wonder if it ever brought her any happiness, you know? If I had to guess, I’d say that it didn’t. It’s not surprising that she turned to drugs. It’s so easy, you know. So tempting. I know. I’ve been there. I’m not a saint. I’ve experimented, done more than experiment even. I’ve sought that escape more times than I can count. And nearly killed myself in the process. But would I go back–would I change things if I could–I don’t know if I’d say that exactly. I have regrets, sure–but everything I did, every decision (bad or good) that I made–all led me here. I did a lot of screwing up, but I also did a lot of learning. And I think that’s what life is all about. About learning and experiencing…everything. The good AND the bad.
As far as trust goes–I don’t open up. I don’t know how to. Not really. I’m so used to holding back, you know? Of holding it all in. When you have secrets like mine–well, you really don’t have any other choice. At least, I didn’t. I mean, I never intended to keep secrets. I was just trying to protect everyone. And myself. What happened when I was sixteen–that was a secret made out of necessity. And a whole lot of fear. I was ashamed and scared and more than anything, I was confused. I couldn’t understand how the world could be that cruel. Or how one bad decision could end up changing my entire life. I didn’t understand what had happened or better yet, why. I still don’t. And to be honest, I didn’t want to understand it. Not then, and not now. I didn’t want it to make sense or for there to be some kind of reason for what happened. I just wanted to forget. I wanted to hide it all away and just forget that anything had happened. So I made a decision and didn’t tell. When reality came screaming at me two months later, I didn’t want to accept it–even with the proof staring me right in the face. It just seemed wrong. And so unfair. For days, I was in denial. It felt like I just couldn’t catch a break. Like no matter what I did, I was never going to be free of what happened that night. I knew I couldn’t live with that, so I did what I felt I had to do. For a long time, I kept that secret–along with the other–and no one knew. Not a soul. And that nearly destroyed me. Literally. I wanted to forget. Anyone would. But of course, I couldn’t. It was always there. And even when it wasn’t, it still was. So instead of facing it, I did what I always do–I ran from the problem. And (as it always does) it only made it worse. I tried everything. Did some things that weren’t exactly healthy–mentally or physically. And I have the scars to remind me of it all. A lot of people would judge me for what I did, for the decisions I made–but those people don’t know what it was like and chances are, they never will. For their sakes, I hope they never have to either. To be trapped in a living hell–a nightmare that never ends–I can’t even describe how horrible it is. To be so spinning so out of control that you’d literally do anything it took–everything–just to make it stop. Even for just a little while. No, people don’t know. They couldn’t.
Some secrets stay with you forever. Some define you–make you who you are. Some are lessons in living. And some secrets are decisions made for the greater good. Like white lies, they have pure intentions. And then there are those that break us. If we let them. It’s a constant struggle–a battle within. Am I over what happened? Not entirely, no. But then, that’s life. You have to learn to roll with the punches, or so the lyrics say. So that’s what I’m doing. I’m rolling…
I’ve come a long way since then though. I’ve changed, a lot. I grew up. I’ve learned that life isn’t always black and white. That sometimes things just happen. There’s no explanation for it–it just is what it is. I wish things were different. That I didn’t keep so many secrets. That I wasn’t like this. I wish that I could trust people and not always assume the worst. I wish love meant something. That it doesn’t symbolize infidelity or betrayal or pain–but I can’t change how I feel. I’ve seen too much. Too much has happened. Whenever I let someone in, I almost always get hurt. Or someone leaves. I wish that I was that girl who dreams of her prince charming and having that fairy-tale wedding and happily ever after ever since she was a little girl–but that’s not me. I don’t believe in marriage. Not like I should anyways. All the marriages I’ve seen have either ended up in a bitter divorce or just all-consuming pain. People break up or fall out of love. It happens all the time. Those vows and promises you make before God–they don’t mean a thing. I think that society’s idea that people should get married is completely outdated. It’s just a piece of paper, after all. With marriage comes this added pressure to fit some kind of mold, to do everything just right. I don’t want that. At least not right now. I don’t want to be dependent on anyone, especially a man. And I definitely don’t want to be told how to live my life. I’ve had enough of that to last me a lifetime, believe me.
I like things the way they are now. Uncomplicated. Un-messy. I’m having fun and I’m happy. There’s someone. He makes me laugh. Not once has he made me cry. He listens and understands and doesn’t push my limits. He hasn’t hurt me. He’s completely understanding about my past, which is pretty amazing I think. He just gets me, you know? And the best part is, he’s honest. He doesn’t have a girlfriend or a wife and a kid hidden away somewhere. He’s not living this double life. Everything is real and it’s nice. It’s not love or anything, but I’m open to the possibility…way way wayyyyyy down the line–when I’m ready. I don’t know, I’m just really happy. And in the end, I think that’s all that really matters, right? I think so.
Well…class is calling so I got to skedaddle…