This Is She

This Is She

The girl running from the pains of her past suffocating on the blood her heart had poured when wounded and broken.

The young woman yearning for a chance at a better future while getting through the tough times of the present day’s society.

The fighter not willing to give up.

The survivor who is still surviving.


Day In, Day Out

Day In, Day Out

“You might need surgery again.” He said for the second time after taking maybe an hour listening to my history. This was the first time I met with my new cardiologist; he had no current tests; he hadn’t done any CT scans, MRIs, ultrasounds, etc. on me. Maybe that’s the part that scared me the most.

At thirteen-year-olds, I underwent my third surgery to help my breathing situation. At eighteen-years-old, I was greeted with the line, “Wow you have a large medical history for your age!” the first time seeing a new pain management specialist versus the normal “Hi, my name is…” Now, at nineteen-years-old, I had not thought the mention or surgery would phase me but it sure did.

I remember the last time I got the news that I needed to schedule my next surgery. I hadn’t understood why tears were forming in my eyes. I hadn’t understood why it felt as if my heart was breaking as I watched my mother melt into tears and breakdown. I remember only panicking because she was. In my mind, it wasn’t a huge deal that I was going through surgery for the third time. But, that day that I saw my cardiologist, it was the mirror opposite of years ago.

One night, I just broke into tears and cried until I fell asleep, exhausted from weeping. I had wanted someone close to me to just hold me and tell me everything was going to be okay. One evening, I was briefly mentioning the doctor appointment to a friend and couldn’t stop the tears from forming in my eyes. One night, I fought back the tears as much as I could as a close friend stood by my side but the second someone came and asked if I was ok, I broke.

Day after day, the daily tasks of life seem petty in comparison to the thoughts that continue to run through my mind. But, what did I expect, this has always been my life…


My days have been hectic. My days have been busy. My days have been…some of the best ones I’ve lived.

You see me running to work early just so I can have fifteen minutes to just breath. You see me staying in the library or finding some abandoned study room for some quiet time to study. You see me fidgeting with my pens anxiously, running my hand through my hair in frustration, rustling through my papers panicking, and filling this body with more caffeine than it should take.

But, honest, when my friend told me he hasn’t been as happy as he is now when his life is consists of an insanely busy schedule probably built to exhaust a human being the second their eyes open, I didn’t believe him. I thought, how is that even possible?! I watched him come to class late almost every session. I watched him drink cups of coffee each and every time, eat his lunch or dinner during class, and then hurry off to wherever the hell he goes afterwards (no one ever knows because he is always too busy to answer his phone). I mean, honest, how can someone be so, so happy with a life like that?

Then, I saw him standing outside one of the school buildings briefly talking to a small group of friends before our class. He was early, for once. He was smiling and laughing, and I could just feel the happiness in his voice. I saw how his eyes lit up when he laughed, and I couldn’t be any more happy for him.

During that small encounter with him, I was the one rushing around. I was checking off one thing after another that I needed to get done before class started. I was running from one end of campus to the other and back. I was exhausted and I could feel my body yearning for some rest, but I was so happy.

I was being so productive. I was being in-control of my time. It was the best feeling. Usually, I’m not as busy as I was that month. Usually, I have time to watch a show or two during the weekend. But as I got busier and as I watched myself get so much done, despite how much my body screamed for me to stop working, I was proud of myself.

And, in all of that, I had set a side some time for my close friends. Every other day or so I respond to one of my friends and continue our email-like conversation through WhatsApp. Every once in a while, I write and look back at old photographs. Sure, I am not insanely busy as my friend has been for the past two years of his life but I’m managing to live a life that most people wouldn’t volunteer for. And that is great.

I am so proud of my friend, and I’m starting to become proud of myself.

How do you get over getting told everything that ever meant anything to you during the past several years was a lie? a facade? fake?


Why did I believe them when they said they were my friends? Why did I trust them when they said they cared? Why did I pour my heart out to them when they hated me?

It doesn’t make sense.

Why stay around someone and pretend to be their friend? Why stick by someone’s side and convince them that you are there for them? Why pretend to be genuine and understanding when you complain about them behind their back?


Why did I believe I had a “family” in the friends? Why did I trust that they would forgive me and let me turn over a new leaf? Why did I expect them to see how much I’ve changed?


Why did I hope for our friendships to last? Why did I dream about future plans when they didn’t want anything to do with me? Why did I believe that we would be okay even though they were holding a dagger to my back?


I know I’ve made mistakes. I know it’s been some time.
I know I’ve angered some people. I know true friendship is hard to find.
I know I’ve ruined things. I know a broken plate can’t be mended with the words ‘I’m sorry’.


I know time has passed. I know I’ve grown up a little more.
I know I’m trying my best to do what’s right. I know I’m doing the best I can.
I know I’ve changed from the past. I know I see in a different light.

I believe someone can change, especially when someone else is there to guide them.

Walk Away???

Walk Away???

I reunited with an old classmate I used to love seeing those mornings for class. Her unapologetically honest comments that were always coated with a hint of sugar, and spice, and everything nice, could always bring a little laughter into my heart that semester. I had come from a broken background and carried a shattered heart seeking to heal in peace, for once, away from everything that created drama and heartbreak. Being in that classroom was always a warm fireplace to sit by.

From that same class, I met a strong young man who seemed to know his way. He would always wake up my heart with his sassy and sarcastic attitude. We would bicker and tease each other, and that kind of friendship was exactly what I needed. I prayed to have him stay in my life, and stay he did. It wasn’t until this past month that he vanished from my weekly schedule. It’s a friendship I wish to rekindle and reconnect with but…

I am slowly getting closer to a friend in one of my current classes. He had a brief existence in my schedule during the last summer, and is in a couple of classes that I will be able to help with. I see a great friendship that has potential to burn brightly even despite our busy lives. There is something about him that makes me smile.

A coworker is in my favorite class, right now. Talking to him is priceless and I wouldn’t trade it for the world, right now. Our conversations can always make me laugh and remember what it is to simply live in the moment. He reminds me to have passion in what I do. He reminds me of my passion that has dimmed from my life during the past year, and reminds me that my fire for such a passion will still burn as brightly as I allow it. I love this friendship and pray for it to remain as strong as it was when it began.

A very old classmate from way back when introduced me to one of his close friends as the girl who “disappeared and no one ever heard from again”. That sure caught some eyes. Being around those two, watching as they goof around and spend their time just playing and having fun, reminded me of the part in life I never really got a grasp of; I could never hold onto this aspect of life for long. There was a phrase that they seemed to live by, and that is “for the hell of it”. As stressed as I have been, that is something I miss so, so much now. But is it worth anything?

A year from now, I’m planning to not be in town. A year from now, all these connections and all these friendships might just burn to the ground. A year from now, I have no clue where I am going to be. So, in the end, I don’t know whether sticking around these people and counting on them for anything in future will be wise for such a fragile heart like my own.

Another’s World

Another’s World

It’s interesting how our minds work. We create different perceptions of the various personas we encounter throughout each and every day of our lives. Whether your thoughts of a person depend on that first impression that halted you from beginning a new friendship, the casual/personal text message you received during a bad time, or the seconds of romantic bliss you experienced, we constantly manipulate the world around us to make sense through all that we see.

Even though we are constantly trying to teach each other to become more aware of one another’s experiences and feelings, we are still ignorant to the fact that what is being seen will change each and every time we choose to change whose eyes we wish to look through. On top of that, a person’s body physically reacts differently as we have different levels of strength to our immune system and different pathways of neurons in which information is processed. We, as in a small group of the entire population that lives on this planet, are always trying to learn about another’s background, another’s story, another’s feelings, in order to have even the slightly glimpse of what life might be like for someone other than ourselves. But, despite how much we may hope or dream, there will never be a day in which we will truly understand what it must be like to “be in someone else’s shoes”. It is simply not possible.

It doesn’t matter how empathic you may be. It doesn’t matter how many years you have known a person. It doesn’t matter how much you put into watching someone change and grow. It doesn’t matter how similar your lives have been for countless of years. It doesn’t matter because, at the end of the day, you cannot change the eyes in which you view life through.

That fact alone feeds our curiosity and will continue to push us to learn more about each other from day to day. We yearn to travel the world, to see the sights we haven’t seen before, to experience another’s culture, to learn about someone else’s heritage and beliefs, to get a sense of what another’s life might feel like. We yearn to be closer to the ones we love, to be there through their every struggle and every spec of happiness, to get right against that boundary between watching another’s life occur and experiencing it ourselves.

Because, in reality, all that we experience simply isn’t enough.