There’s something so magical about loving life after a long time of dreading it. I feel an eagerness to grow up, and to heal the parts of me that people have taken advantage of. I have so many stories that a lot of people don’t know. I’m starting to realize the amount of strength I’ve gained from all these stories, no matter how painful they were. I’m alive. My capability to keep going isn’t caused by a cold sense of numbness, it’s because I’m happy. Of course, I don’t have everything figured out and it doesn’t take much to make me cry, but all of that is okay. I used to think people would get bored of the same clique “don’t give up” articles I write. But, at this point, I’m writing for myself. I’ve finally noticed the beauty in my own writing, especially my poetry. I cannot wait to share more emotions and realizations.
I’ve met new people who remind me that we still have time. We’re so young, and we’re at an age where life is starting to get real, and it’s our job to take care of it. It’s a lot of responsibility, and we shouldn’t be judged for being scared. We know that the world isn’t gentle, but that doesn’t mean we’re ready to face this battle without fear. I ‘ve become so used to being angry at the cards the universe had dealt for me. But now, I look at this in a different perspective. During a dark time in my life, a friend once told me that I was born into this world for a reason. I was given this life because the universe knew I could handle it. Maybe I am scared to be honest to myself and others. I love writing, but it can be intimidating. And the greater my love for it becomes, it can be more stressful to decide what to write about.
When I was younger, I thought my life was too sheltered but the truth was, I was being protected from the trauma that I wasn’t ready to hold yet. Now, I think about 6-year old- me, prancing around the house with her purple Little Mermaid dress up heels. I think about -12 year- old me being called stupid by a teacher who knew I wouldn’t talk back. I think about -18- year old me, staying up until 4:00 AM waiting for a guy, who barely looked into her eyes. At the end of the day, I’m alive. And it feels so real.
