A sample of All Familiar Things Were Once Strange
All Familiar Things Were Once Strange
Sophia Joan Short
Thought Catalog Books — New York · Los Angeles
thoughtcatalog.com
Copyright © 2021 Sophia Joan Short. All rights reserved.
Published by Thought Catalog Books, an imprint of the digital magazine Thought Catalog, which is owned and operated by The Thought & Expression Company LLC, an independent media organization based in Brooklyn, New York and Los Angeles, California.
This book was produced by Chris Lavergne and Noelle Beams with art direction and design by KJ Parish. Special thanks to Bianca Sparacino for creative editorial direction and Isidoros Karamitopoulos for circulation management.
Visit us at thoughtcatalog.com and shopcatalog.com.
Made in the United States of America.
ISBN 978-1-949759-41-9
For my Granny
who was the best at giving pep talks
(and those who miss hearing them).
Hi there—Glad you opened up this book. Now, these poems aren’t meant to be a guide or give instructions for your life, but hope, encouragement, and feeling less alone are what they might provide. And maybe they can be alongside as you tackle what’s next for you in this big game that we call life. Even though we don’t have the same day-to-day, I hope you find some familiar feelings reflected to you on these pages. I’ve written words about the major themes in my life so far—finding the courage to try something new, the relationship with yourself and others, mental health, growing up, and the future. These words might hold some truth for you and even make that little spark of hope grow a bit brighter as you write the pages for your story.
There’s no right way to read this book—maybe you flip to a random page or tear out a poem that speaks to your current life stage. Reread it a hundred times or get halfway through and decide to give it to a friend who it might serve more than you. Maybe you finish it once and then leave a page on a different car windshield every weekend for the next few months, fold up your favorite poem and slide it under your neighbor’s door, or leave it in the bathroom of a random gas station on your next vacation.
In all seriousness, however you read it, I’m deeply grateful that you’re taking the time to. Hope these words hold some meaning for you.
Lots of love,
Sophia
Courage is
doing your
best when
there is no
guarantee
for success.
On Trying Things
If we’re going to get to know each other—I’ll be honest up front. I like to be the best right away at stuff—and when I’m not, the feelings that settle in are tough. But something that I’ve been reminded an embarrassing number of times is that success isn’t usually the first thing that I find. Instead it’s a process of trying, failing, and trying again, and that’s exactly what you’ll find words in this chapter saying. So many perceptions that we hold make you feel like you’re failing harder than you actually are—not having the whole picture, comparing your beginning to someone else’s middle, or thinking you should have succeeded on the first try. The good news is you can look at every failure as something that provides a little padding so the next one doesn’t bruise your ego quite as badly. Don’t get me wrong—it probably will still sting a little, but for me, the more failures I’ve collected, the easier time I have getting back up and understanding it’s just a step to getting where I’m going.
For when you’re starting something new
If something could go wrong, it could also go right—
So start shaky
Start unsure
You’re writing a brave beginning to this chapter
A case for beginning
Being a beginner doesn’t mean you’re bad at something
it means that there’s space to grow
Sometimes that space seems so big
Filled with so much to learn and know
And of course you’ll make mistakes
But the biggest one would be not to try
Because the time you spend wondering about it
Will still pass by
Time
Remember all the familiar things
that were once strange—
Like
The commute to work you can do with your eyes closed
when at first you relied on Google Maps for every turn
The skill you never thought you would learn
Or the layout of a new home you can
now navigate in the dark
It’s possible for any big unsettling change
To transform
Because time has a funny way of
making an uphill climb unfold
Into a simple stroll through the park
When we
cling to
what we know,
we miss
how we
could
grow